


Watercolors

by TeamB



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: 19th Century, Apritello, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kappa, TMNT 2016 - Freeform, tmnt 2014
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 70,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamB/pseuds/TeamB
Summary: In the summer of 1869 April O’Neil goes to Japan to visit her stationed uncle as well as paint portraits of its scenery and people. She did not however expect to find herself entwined in an age old clash of clans, or even tangled further with four not-so-human brothers.
Relationships: Donatello/April O'Neil (TMNT)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	1. Welcome to Japan

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been a Donnie/April junkie since 2003, and decided it's about time I write a fic for them. I've got a couple of ideas in concerns for the pairing and just might bounce around the various universes. Watch out TMNT fandom, here I come!

It’d been a little over five years since April O’Neil has seen her uncle, and so at the first opportunity to up and visit him she took it, even if that meant she had to suffer through weeks at sea. The dragging days and shifting tides were all worth it the moment her ship harbored and she raced off the board plank into her uncles outstretched arms.

“Uncle Augie!” April dropped her luggage beside her, save for the small case in hand and wound what she could of herself around her smiling uncle.

“Bless my soul, April! Look at you.” Green eyes bright and beard and mustache evenly trimmed around his wide smile, her uncle Augustus O’Neil took a step back to take her in. “When you mentioned your wishes to visit, I really didn’t take it as a promise, but here you are, and my how you’ve grown. No more a young lass.”

April blushed at his affectionate comments, tucking a strand of her wild red hair behind her ear. “It’s why I wanted to come. I figure I’m old enough to see the world now, and why not start with Japan?”

Despite her avid attitude and enthusiastic smiles, she could feel a mood about her uncle in concerning the land he found himself living in these days. He sighed, took up a few cases of her luggage and helped her toward their awaiting carriage.

While the US legation was located at a Zenpukuji, a Buddhist temple, the many consuls were given lodging nearby in quaint little homes. Upon entering, April took in the contrast with the furnish stuffed inside and the architecture surrounding, many of the pieces crafted from the States or the Old Country. They all looked so out of place in a home designed for eastern essentials. It was like a westerner stepping foot in a land not accustomed to them. April could relate.

“I apologize for the mess.” Already her uncle was shoving through stacks of baskets and crates not yet touched. He struggled his way into a hallway until stopping at the first door and sliding it open. “As you can see I had some last minute cleaning, but . . . your ship came three days sooner than I thought it would.”

All April could do was shrug as she moved in behind her relative to take in the room he had cleared. It was a simple room with a simple cubed space. There was a desk and next to it a small closet, a stand and wash basin nearby, and then in the corner underneath the window lay a mat topped with sheets. She rose a brow at it and then at her uncle.

“Now I’ve ordered a bedframe, but the ship won’t be in for a few weeks. I hope you don’t mind camping out on the floor.” Her uncle looked worried over her expression, but April only shook her head in acceptance.

“It’ll be just like old times; like when we all used to crowd in that tiny apartment of yours for Christmas. I’ll be fine. Besides, I think this might be the first time I’ve ever even had my own room.”

Her response seemed to lighten her uncle’s heart. “This place will be full of new and different experiences for you, I hope you’re prepared.”

April’s smile curled more as she laid her small case down onto the desk. “I’m hoping for them.” As soon as she snapped the latches open, her uncle realized why she held onto her enthusiasm for the unordinary. Inside she stashed papers and sticks of color, both new and used. The sight must have brought back fond memories from the way his smile softened and eyes shone gently.

“Wanting to paint the whole of Japan? Good luck.” He chuckled and reached out to ruffle her fiery locks. “But I know you’re up for the task.”

“If William Gilpin can do it, then why not April O’Neil?” Even in the midst of her excitement and avid hopes of following in her hero’s footsteps, come the following morning, April quickly realized why someone such as “April O’Neil” might find a struggle in doing something such as documenting the natives and landscape with pictures.

There she was with her propped case in the middle of the market, hands waving at the passing people for someone to stop, for someone to stand still so that she might draw them, but no one did. They stared and moved on. Perhaps it was simple language barrier.

In the early planning stages of this visit, April brushed up on what she could of the Japanese language, howbeit there wasn’t much curricular at all, so there was likely miscommunication in her sentences and phrases. The odd looks were enough of that, but even still she honestly didn’t ask for much. Just one person to sit on the stool she propped in front of her makeshift easel, but no one came.

Disappointed, but not downhearted. She was April O’Neil after all.

With a huff, April gathered up her belongings and moved toward the eating district. It’s there she sat down at a corner and laid her case down on her lap. With paper and charcoal, she began shadowing her surroundings. If no one would let her sketch them then she would simply sketch the entirety of the area.

It was in that corner where she remained for a good portion of that day, flipping through different pages of different angles and vantages. With the line work done, she itched to meld her paint. She would need some water first.

Standing up, April looked toward a nearby shop. It was full of hanging and shelved clay, glass, and porcelain jars and she bet one had to at least contain some water. So she approached the owner and tried her best to convey what she needed.

“Mizu?” She asked slowly in what she was certain was the word for the element she needed, and yet the older woman looked at her like she didn’t understand what she was saying. “Mizu?” She asked again. Again, she was ignored.

“You should leave, foreigner.”

April turned to see a narrow-eyed young man. He wasn’t alone, especially not in his glaring. The tension in the air was more than obvious, and April’s own headstrong aptitude wouldn’t be able to change it this time.

“I just wanted a little water. I don’t think you’d refuse someone that, right?” They let April’s question linger and further stress the air around her. She didn’t need anymore comments to understand where she stood in this situation.

“Get out of here, devil eyes! You and the others!”

April rushed over to grab her case, but as soon as she had she felt a rough hand grab her hair just long enough to throw her to the ground. She scrambled back as they encroached.

“I don’t mean any harm!” She bade, though she doubted they would listen to any of her pleas.

“Western lies!” Soon enough her antagonizes encircled her and one was even so bold to jab his toes into her ribs. Just as they began to bat her with their walking sticks, she rolled to her feet, springing up and outward. They had at least some courtesy to keep the circle loose enough for her to run off and out of.

April tried her hardest to keep the tears at bay when she slide the front door open to her uncle’s home, but the throbbing pain of a bruise across her cheek and the ache along her side made her tremble the tears out. And Augustus O’Neil was in the lounge room, first witness to her state the moment she entered.

“April!” With wide eyes Augustus quickly moved to his niece’s side. “What happened?”

“I’m fine.” April didn’t want to worry her uncle, and it was a quick and habitual response. She’s had worse, honestly. When she was eight she had taken a tumble out of a tree and broke her arm and dislocated her shoulder. She’s had worse. But even still, she wasn’t fine, outwardly or inwardly. She couldn’t stop crying.

“No, you are not.” Twisting, Augustus called into the home. A servant quickly came running up the hall. “Minako, go run a bath for my niece. And please fetch the ointments.” The older woman bowed and retreated to perform her tasks whilst Augustus looked on in grief and worry. Sitting her down in the nearest chair, he was quick to fetch a wet cloth himself and hand it to her.

Grateful for the cool relief against her tender skin, April let her sore body sink into the couch. There she sat, holding onto the moist cloth, trying to shallow her breathing to abate her aching ribs. At least the moisture from the cloth hid the amount of tears she still continued to shed. But as her puffy eyes looked toward her Uncle she realized the upset in his dark eyes would force her to relay the events that brought them to this current situation.

“I guess I just went to some places where I wasn’t welcome.” Even the shrug hurt. Her uncle winced along with her.

“Where at exactly did you go?” He inquired.

“Just to the marketplace. All I wanted to do was paint,” she explained. The dark look in her uncle’s eyes never really faded.

“April, I’m really sorry this happened. These passed years haven’t been pleasant for the peoples of this land, or for peoples not from this land. I’m not sure when those feelings will ever wane.” He sighed, shaking his head and patting her hands comfortingly. “Maybe next time you’ll tell me where you’re going so I can get you an escort?” His smile was bittersweet, even as he rose a hand to tug at one of her tangled red locks. “You’re quite an easy target for all of that hate.”

April loved her uncle, and adored his consideration for her, but if all she did was wander around Japan with an escort no one would want to come close to her, and in that no one would let her paint. It’s not what she wanted. And as she soaked in the tub with steaming water up to her chin to dull the aches of her abused body, she ran her hand through her hair in thought, and as her blue eyes roamed over deep red she thought of a way to go about the streets less noticeable.

It was her uncle’s reaction the next morning that resolved her decision.

“April, what have you done to your hair?!”

She turned to look at her uncle’s horrified face. One hand ran through the newly darkened locks. “Oh, I had Miss Minako get me a dye. I figured that my red hair makes me stick out, you know, like back in the States. Maybe this time less people will look my way.”

“April, it takes more than dying your hair to become invisible around here.” Augustus was crossing his arms, shaking his head disapprovingly. He approached her and set his hands on her shoulders, lightly brushing through the ruined locks. He looked remorseful before he shook his head once more. “No, if you insist on going back out then you’ll need this.”

April’s eyes were wide when her uncle came to hand her a pistol, just small enough to fit into her blouse.

“I’m not asking you to shoot anyone, in fact that’s the last thing I ask,” her uncle explained. “But if you ever get into that kind of situation then just shoot into the air. It won’t hurt anyone, but it’ll scare them away.”

April understood, however, she felt that perhaps carrying something like a gun would agitate her relations with the Japanese further. But it wasn’t at all unwelcome given what she had gone through the other day.

“Now, let me call in an escort for you.” April blinked again and made a disapproving sound as her uncle moved toward the door. He motioned her silence and continued his pace. “Don’t fight me on this, April. It’s for your own good, as well as mine.”

As soon as he stepped out to do just that, April grabbed her painter case and rushed out of the house just as quickly. Would Uncle Augie be mad that she left without an entourage? Likely. But April didn’t focus on that angry face waiting for her when she came back, instead she clutched her case to herself and went off into the streets and gardens, heart pounding to memorize and immortalize.

By midday April had an array of sketches of structures around the city, her favorite ones being the jutting temples on its outskirts, one of which she was currently finishing up. Her self-touring was met with wary glares and untranslatable mutters. All in all it was a better day than the previous, enough to put a proud smile back on April’s lips.

A rumble in her stomach finally got through to her and reminded her that she had forgone breakfast and lunch and by the position of the sun it was drawing near dinner. Confounded bodily needs. With a sigh, April packed her papers and utensils back into her case and moved to locate a nearby restaurant. She found a noodle shop and sat and dined even when lanterns were lit and the nightlife wandered in to fill their own bellies.

Dying her hair certainly didn’t deter eastern eyes from her other prominent western features and as the booth crowded, the more the air rose with agitation, that is until someone sat down left of her.

“It is not wise to be out after sundown in your condition.”

April turned to look at a young woman with sharp eyes. The corner of her mouth quirked into what could almost be seen as a smirk, but April wasn’t one to judge on first impressions—much. The kimono that she wore was red with swirling patterns. Even with such a rude comment, she certainly held no threatening aura about her.

“Condition?”

The woman gave a snort this time. “The western kind.”

Oh. April’s brows lowered and she turned to look back at her empty bowl and then at her case. Western or not, she meant no harm there and never will. She was just a scenery romanticist is all.

“You speak better English than anyone else here. Is that your way of telling me to be off?” April shot her blue eyes back toward the woman.

“Just take it as advice,” she said. “I am Karai.”

April straightened in her seat, even as she twisted more toward the woman after the introduction. She was one of the first to actually politely greet her, well, as politely as circumstances allowed. “April O’Neil.” She offered her hand, but Karai only stared until she retracted it. Right. “Anything else I should be aware of during my stay here, Karai?”

She noticed the woman’s eyes turn and then she pointed down a road. “Avoid that district, and the one next to it at any time of day. I suggest this one to avoid during the busy nights, and always avoid the forests, there are worse things than foreign haters lurking in there.”

April’s wide eyes followed her directions and logged the information internally. Perhaps with the advice, she would be able to maneuver better around the city.

“What is it you do?” April looked back toward Karai and noticed her looking her over until her brown eyes fell upon her case. “Why stay out so late and so far away from your brethren?”

Patting her case, April felt her protective side pull it from the bar counter back into her lap. She smiled politely at Karai. “I paint. And I lost track of time. I want to paint this place, its cities and towns and its people, but it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

Karai nodded, understanding her dilemma no doubt. “What have you painted?”

“Buildings mostly,” April said, popping open the case and showing Karai some of the sketches. “But people are a lot harder to get to stand still.”

“You wish to paint us?” Karai’s smile curled more and she nodded, hopping off the stool. “Come. You are in the wrong district. I’ll take you to more docile individuals.”

April followed where Karai led. And true to her word, the Japanese woman introduced her to individuals who submitted to their terms and obediently settled and let April sketch their forms. Enthused and ecstatic, April hadn’t realized how late in the day it was until it was blacker than black outside. Whatever the hour was, it was likely her Uncle Augie wouldn’t approve of her staying out during such.

“Karai, I can’t express how grateful I am to have had the honor of meeting you and having you guide me around tonight.” Despite how awkward it was, April was all smiles as she dipped herself in a native bow. With her case clutched close she backed away, entering into her farewell. “I hope we run into each other again. Maybe next time I’ll get to paint you.”

“Go home, western girl,” Karai nodded. “And be safe on your walk home.” She returned the farewell bow.

The first thing April noticed when she came out of her pleasant stupor was the full moon. It was also the last thing she noticed before she realized she was being stalked. Her eyes darted to the people she passed, many turning to glare, to pass comments. Though the ones that worried her were the ones bouting at her, and when she ignored them on her rushed walk home, they antagonized further.

With a quick turn back, she realized she was being followed by said rowdy individuals, and in the lantern lit dark, it was hard to discern if they were the same that had assaulted her yesterday. However, she had no intention on waiting until they caught up with her to find out. With her case clutched against her bosom, she sprinted down the road. And they gave chase.

She was too far from home to keep up her run, and stall after stall that she passed bore no signs of help or western build. She shouldn’t have stayed out so late, her uncle was going to kill her if her pursuers didn’t bring her half way there first. Her fright took her through residential areas and gardens in hopes to evade, but after every turn they seemed to come closer, finding shorter cuts than herself. So she darted into the forest.

As soon as the branches brushed through her flowing hair, and bushes pushed against her dress, the sound of her chasers began to dwindle. April didn’t look back though, she just kept running, knowing that if she did, if her directional sense was on par then she would eventually return back to her uncle’s estate. But the forest was vast and seemed darker than even the unlit streets she had passed through a little earlier, so dark that she hadn’t seen the upward log that would send her falling down a slope and into vines.

A startled scream helped her body shake out of the tangle, and as she crawled away and laid her back against a tree trunk. She was shaking, the case in her hands rattling as her heavy breathing shuddered out of her trembling lips. The weight of the pistol in her blouse burned, and the fear of taking it out had her frightened. But the quiet around her gave way to noises, of which alerted her to an approach.

Jumping to her feet, April shook her pistol out and pointed into the darkness. “Don’t come near!” She turned when another noise startled her to another direction. “I-I’ll shoot!” And then another noise caught her attention, one close, so very close, as if it were just right behind her. So she turned and in her fragile alarmed state pulled the trigger.

In the flash of the fire, April’s wide eyes caught sight of something. Something she couldn’t explain. Something that came so clear and detailed in that moment of panic. Green, eyes as wide as her own. A figure much taller than she, with a face that showed the same amount of fright.

April screamed just as the creature did, just as her bullet struck, and even as it ricocheted, bouncing back toward her, into the dirt. She jumped back in reaction, body shaking to the point her eyes closed and her muscles locked. She didn’t really feel herself hit the ground, nor did she remember the world going dark, but it was already dark to begin with.

. . .

Was it stupid to venture toward the edge of safer territory, leaning just close enough to be seen by the opposing clan? Yes, yes it was, but where others—especially the adults—might chide, berate, and call you upon your folly, Dennosuke’s reasonable excuse was that he was there to protect his little brother Michitaro, because it was young Michi’s idea and despite its absolute absurdity Dennosuke knew that if Michitaro set his mind to do something then no one was stopping him from doing it. So it was best someone chaperone him, and who better than his big brother?

While Michitaro’s curiosity about the western humans pulled him to take a peek at one, Dennosuke followed out of necessity to oversee a successful mission and protection if need be. And perhaps because he too secretly yearned to see one as well. Not that his brother needed to know, Michitaro’s excitement was enough for the both of them.

It was nerve-wracking though, standing so close to human territory, just a rock’s throw away from the nearest housing structure. In the distance they could see one of their main roads where their offspring ran across, and where their beasts of burden worked to pull heavy loads for their tugging masters. Couples, wanderers, armed soldiers, all sorts moved up and down along the road, and as soon as Dennosuke about pulled his brother back in their failed attempt to see anyone different than the usual typical human they’ve witnessed over the centuries, they see three at once.

They stood tall, strange hats atop their head, and their facial hair came in all sorts, all so very well mannered and kept. Their attire was something else as well. Leggings tight across their long limbs, and tighter shirts as well. The shiny golden disks lined along their shirts mesmerized the two for just long enough to realize it was late.

That was when Dennosuke reluctantly pulled back, taking an equally reluctant brother with him.

Their pace back was less than ideal, and Dennosuke blamed it on his brother’s dragging feet than his own stiff-limbed refusal to return in favor of going back to gluing his eyes on the strange differences of the western humans. It had, however, been Michitaro who pointed out the noises coming just ahead. The high pitched cries had triggered their wonder towards identifying the sounds, and while Michitaro suggested a deer, Dennosuke assumed more of a young bear. They were both wrong.

In the flash of the loud BANG wide bright eyes and full round lips stared at them. Its appearance in the middle of the woods startled the brothers as much as the odd looking stick in its hands. On reflex, Dennosuke slid himself in front of his brother and no sooner did he that he felt something bounce off his plastron. A frightened step back pushed Michitaro back as well, even as he clung to him in fright of their safety.

It wasn’t until the human’s knocking knees brought it down that the two try and capture their racing hearts.

“You alright, Denno?” Michitaro was in front of him now, looking down his shell. Dennosuke felt him poke him at a certain place. “Something nicked you here.” He turned then and looked down at the limp human. Instantaneously his eyes widened with fascination.

“Wooow, look at it!” He excitingly circled. “What’s it wearing?”

Dennosuke could care less what the human was wearing. His concern leaned toward the alarming proximity they were from it, as well as Michitaro touching it—which he was doing that right now.

“Don’t touch it!” Dennosuke paled at the sight of his brother lifting the wide girth of the odd kimono and taking a glance inside. The moment his shout was abided by, he prepared to goad Michitaro to leave the unconscious human and continue their path homeward. But Michitaro’s curiosity took hold of him, and there wasn’t really saving him until it passed out of his system.

Michitaro lowered the dress and moved, he looked down at the human, taking in the facial features. It was only a short moment later before an enthused gasp sounded. He looked at him with a wide smile. “Denno, I think it’s western!”

Dennosuke only let the familiar tingle of related curiosity take him to step closer—not so much to examine the human lain out, but to be near his brother . . . just in case. After a quick glance over he could see what his brother saw. Its face was unusual, with a nose more pointed, face more square, and skin more pale. Looking down further he noticed a low-cut bodice and from the swell along the chest area, he determined the gender of the human.

“It looks like _she_ is,” Dennosuke concluded. He placed his hands on his brother’s carapace, tugging. “Now, back away before she can hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Michitaro looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “She’s completely still, I think she’s dead.”

Dennosuke was also able to determine the life inside from the rise and fall of her breast. “Were it so easy.”

“What do you think she’s doing out here?” Michitaro once more pulled away, leaning in closer, crouching just too close to set his older brother’s nerves on edge. “It’s a far way from human territory, farther still from where she came from.” After a pause, Michitaro’s mouth opened in concluded shock. “What if she’s a sacrifice?”

Dennosuke sighed. “They don’t do those anymore.”

“Maybe she ran away?” The look in Michitaro’s eyes made Dennosuke groan. “Can we . . .?”

“No, we are not keeping a human,” Dennosuke finalized. “She’s likely just lost, humans do it all the time, especially in a forest like this. She’ll find her way back, now come on.”

This time, his tug to move his brother along was met with resistance. Michitaro jerked himself away and turned in challenge. “She might not find her way back, a lot of humans don’t. If that’s the case then it’s up to us to bring her back.”

Dennosuke shook his head to try and brush the frayed logic of his younger brother out of his skull. Then he paused for a moment to retain his composure and impulse to reach over and slap that idea from him.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Then I’ll say it again!”

Startled and shocked, Dennosuke looked at Michitaro strangely. He’s been stubborn before, but never on matters concerning the Clans. Something must be in the air to take what little common sense he had and suffocate it.

Perhaps it was Dennosuke’s look that made Michitaro turn, his eyes roaming over the human again. He smiled. “She’s kind of pretty, you know?”

“Okay this was a bad idea. There’s something in the air, you’ve lost your mind.” Dennosuke moved, this time pulling Michitaro away with a force that wouldn’t relent, and despite Michitaro’s protests, Dennosuke refused to let go. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you get this close to human territory.”

“But you wanted to come just as much!” Michitaro protested as he wiggled in his brother’s grasp. “That’s why I asked you.”

Dennosuke stopped, gapping. How dare he say such things—such incriminating but completely true things? In his moment of weakness, Michitaro escaped his hold and darted back to the human. Before Dennosuke’s very eyes he watched his brother kneel down and lift her up. He should have had a heart attack right then and there. But he didn’t. Shame.

“Haha, check it out, I’m actually holding a human.” Michitaro was grinning ear to ear. It might be seen as adorable if he wasn’t holding a vicious creature that wouldn’t think twice about killing his kind and using his meat for their stews and his shell for their home décor.

“Michi, what are you doing?! What if she wakes up?”

Michitaro shrugged. “Then she’ll scream, you’ll scream, I’ll scream, and one of us’ll faint, hopefully her.”

Dennosuke sighed, looking down and noticing her dropped belongings, one being the stick she had aimed at them. He knelt down and picked it up, Michitaro leaned forward, just as curious.

“Is that the thing she pointed at you before? How can something so small make such a loud noise?”

That is what Dennosuke wanted to know, but he refrained. Instead he looked at Michitaro and then at the limp figure in his arms. “I think you’re right about this one, Michi. If she is lost then others like her will come looking for her, others with things like this.” He held up the iron framed hollow stick. “And that wouldn’t be good for us or anyone else that lives here.”

Despite the direness of Dennosuke’s explanation, Michitaro only seemed more excited. He nodded his head quickly and swung his form around, toward where they had just come from.

“Then that leaves us with the duty of dropping her off! Let’s go!”

The entire walk back, Dennosuke didn’t take his eyes off of the human in his brother’s arms, jumping at each twitch she made as if any moment she’d wake and throw her hands around Michitaro’s neck. If that ever happened, Dennosuke would be able to stop it quickly. But in his paranoia and prolonged stare, it gave him the unintentional opportunity to look at her, actually look at her. Western features really were different than the humans they were used to. It was fascinating how different they were from one another, reminding Dennosuke of his own people in a way.

Where they came from there was a variety skin tones, heights, even shell shapes and designs. And while the land held many different humans in their own sense, most of them were dark haired and dark eyed. This human’s hair was similarly dark, but her lips were fuller, swollen and plump. Her nose was sharp, bigger than he was used to seeing, but fitting for the rest of her facial features. Her cheeks weren’t set where usual human females were—at least not the ones from around there—but it was unique, exotic even. Her lashes were quite long as well, giving deeper shape to her eyelids. Her pale skin fascinated Dennosuke, he’s never seen a human so pale outside of sickness, perhaps she wasn’t healthy and that’s why she was left in the middle of the forest? No, it couldn’t be. Her earlier screams sounded strong enough to determine internal longevity. That left him with further curiosity, further wonder, and further observation.

Michitaro’s earlier comment might not be so wrong-said actually.

When they reached the edge of the forest the previous lit lanterns that had lined the homes and steets had all been snuffed. Deep night had set in and many of the humans crowded in the streets and shops have either dwindled or settled inside their homes and beds. This was a great relief for Dennosuke who currently motioned for his brother to lay the girl down.

“What, right here?” Michitaro questioned. “What if no one finds her?”

Dennosuke ran a hand down his face. “They will. Humans look after their own, just like we do.”

That fact didn’t seem to win Michitaro’s confidence however. His gaze was deep in thought, in thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking especially when they lead him to leave the shelter of the bushes and foliage to venture toward the comparted homes and lined roads.

“Michi!” Dennosuke gasped with absolute horror as he watched his little brother move out of their cover and toward the dark road. Maybe his terror would have died down if Michitaro would have put the human down and then rushed back over toward him, but he didn’t. No, he stood there in the middle of the dark road looking around, eyes wide and mouth agape. It’s like he forgot the human in his arms and the reason he was there for.

Grinding his teeth, Dennosuke made the foolish decision to jump out of the forest and run toward his brother. Even as he slid to a halt beside him, Michitaro seemed in another place, lost in the contrast of his surroundings. He only jumped back into his senses when Dennosuke took the weight in his arms away.

Those big eyes of his blinked as he looked down at his empty arms and then turned toward Dennosuke who was laying the human female down onto a bench.

“Wow, Denno, didn’t think you’d be the type to willingly go into open human settlement,” Michi commented.

Dennosuke groaned again as he pulled away from the human and quickly took a hold of his brother, pulling him back into the forest as fast as he could. “We’re so getting yelled at for this!”

Michitaro giggled behind him, but at least he was trailing. “I won’t tell Raijirou if you don’t tell Ienari.”

Dennosuke groaned again, knowing it was a long track home and if they didn’t get back before sunup then they’d get plenty of lip from their two older brothers. Lip he wasn’t entirely innocent of unfortunately.


	2. We Meet Again

There were three pistols tucked into his belt and a rifle slung over his shoulder. With the shotgun currently in hand, Augustus O’Neil almost forgot to clip his saber to his side. He didn’t need it, certainly the firearms he gathered would be enough in his defense, but the long sharp blade called to him, reminding him that the foreign land he was currently in had an affinity toward their own blades, so why not he? Especially now of all times.

So he grabbed his sword and balanced himself. He was ready. Ready to retaliate against the dishonorable disappearance of his niece.

It was a moment later that said niece walked through the front door. Shoulders slumped, hair in tangles, and skin covered with blotches of dirt and shrub residue. The poor girl looked like she’d spent the night out in the woods.

“April!” His startle turned her attention toward him. Sleep still shined in the gleam of her blues eyes, and the bags underneath alerted him that she was likely due for a morning nap. Even still, they roamed him over before the smallest sense of confusion pulsed through those bright irises.

“Off to war, Augie?”

Augustus blinked. “War? April, you’ve been gone all night. I thought the worst and—”

“Sorry,” she spoke up, rubbing her arms. “Must have lost track of time. Didn’t even know I’d fallen asleep. Woke up on a bench at sunrise. Sorry.”

Augustus’s racing heart relaxed him, and that tight grip on his shotgun loosened. He disarmed himself and immediately took his niece into his arms. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear. Are you hungry? I can go get some eggs and milk for breakfast. That sound good?”

April nodded with a waking smile, and just as her uncle maneuvered out of the house still full prepped to do battle in three wars, she let exhaustion from her rough morning and tired walk home take full hold of her. Sliding down, she saddled herself into a cushioned chair. There she tried to recognize the reason for every mysterious ache in her body.

With a sigh, April looked down at the state of her shoes, both covered in copious amounts of mud. Great, that would take all day to scrub off. Even her dress looks like it’s been through a mile of thorn bushes. However, there was one tear that was a little too well rounded to ignore.

Leaning over, April picked up the train of her dress, noticing the hole. She stuck her finger through it and raked her mind over what she could have snagged it on. Though, all possibilities that came to mind quickly vanished as a familiar “bang!” echoed in the memory of her ears. And then the swift “ping!” of something striking near her, too close.

The tear was a bullet hole. April paled, feeling her stomach churn at the returning memory of the night before.

. . .

Even though they had raced for two hours straight, Dennosuke and Michitaro weren’t able to make it back to the city before sunup. In fact, the sun had been up for the past three hours. Apprehension took hold of them both as they moved toward the gate and the skeptical sentries at post.

“Hibiki, Kenta, my guys, how’s business been?” Michitaro knows no boundaries, even toward the large sentinels who were looking at them with narrowing eyes.

“What were you doing outside the gates?” Hibiki questioned, looking down at them.

Michitaro darted back to his brother’s side for safety and moral support. Looks like he’s run out of excuses this time around, so it was up to Dennosuke. Reaching into his pack, Dennosuke pulled out two yellow globes and showed them off to the skeptical-eyed sentries.

“Picking some yuzus. Have some.” Tossing the fruit, the sentinels quickly caught the entry gifts and dazzled their attention over them whilst the brothers made their way past the gates and into the city.

The scent of moisture instantly met them in a welcome home. The high sun crept rays down along crafted arches careening over the entire perimeter and along descending falls, filling springs where children played and swam, and where the older yet gathered and communed. Rising huts, both rounded and oblong, and even stacked created their own wall for the populace mingling inside. Though early still, the crisscrossed streets were seeing its first transporters hauling goods and belongings from one shop to another. Last minute cleaning created the wafting clatter from abodes and stalls, all preparing for the oncoming day.

At the center, near the high risen hills were the gargantuan figures of the great suikos. Beneath lay the arena patches where the rowdy began their first wrestling matches, and a very familiar kappa was currently tangled with another.

Michitaro ran over in his excitement to witness the outcome of the morning matches. He stopped just a breath away from the platform, waving his arms and then shouting, “Nice form, Raij! Squash ‘em!”

At the identification, the wrestler pushed his opponent away, taking a few steps back before turning and looking at his avid fan. A look washed over his face as soon as a huff escaped his nostrils.

“Michi?” His eyes locked onto the other brother standing just behind Michitaro. “Denno?” However, his opponent shared no care for familial meetings and made to ram their shoulder right into Raijirou’s plastron, almost knocking him off of the platform hadn’t Raijirou caught his footing, twisted, and flipped his opponent onto their carapace. With his weight now pressed on him, Raijirou’s attention toward his bothers could carry on unhinged. “Nari’s been looking for you.”

The relayed information made the two stiffen. They shared a grieved look before Dennosuke stretched his neck to clarify.

“Ienari’s looking for us?” He questioned once more, hoping he might have heard it wrong, or at least assumed the worst incorrectly.

“Yes, he is.”

Dennosuke and Michitaro about collided into each other when they twisted around to peer into the upset eyes of their eldest brother.

“You two were out all night. Why?” Ienari pressed.

“Uh, midnight stroll?” Michitaro offered, but only got a weary look from his brother before those harsh eyes turned back toward Dennosuke.

Dennosuke swallowed as he dug into his pack. “We, uh, went to pick yuzus.” That excuse was good enough for the sentries in that Dennosuke carried two on him, but his hand grasped no more fruit, so he looked back at his brother with blinking eyes. “Uh, we did. You can go ask Hibiki and Kenta.”

“Yeah, go ask them!” Michitaro seconded as he moved toward his older brother, leaning against his shoulder as if trying to pressure him into validating Dennosuke’s statement. If he did, it would give the two of them time to retreat and create a new battle plan. But Ienari shook him off a moment later, moving away from him and then slinging an arm around Dennosuke and walking him a distance for a private conversation. Michitaro’s insides were in tangles at the sight, knowing that his bother used this separating tactic to get confessions. The technique was usually quite effective and so that meant if Dennosuke untied his tongue about where they were and why they were and what they found and who they were with then they’d never be able to exit the city again.

“Denno, look, I know you mean well, but you shouldn’t be sticking up for Michi,” Ienari began, poking his younger brother to keep his darting guilty eyes on him. “We both know he likes to sneak out at night to quell his obnoxious desires, which you can agree aren’t the wisest of ideas. You went with him to keep an eye on him, I get that. I just want to know what rambunctious plot he had last night.”

Dennosuke remained quiet in recollection of everything that had happened the previous night. Things that were so unbelievable he doubted his brother would take him seriously. Really, though, where could he start?

“Stop it, just stop it! I wanted to see the new humans, alright!” Michitaro balled into them, standing between Dennosuke and Ienari.

“Humans?” Wide eyes took in Michitaro’s distressed face for a moment before a heated look turned back toward Dennosuke accusingly.

“Yeah,” Michitaro carried. “The ones those black ships bring. They wear these funny hats and have all this gold sewn into their tight clothes, and—”

“You saw them? How close were you two?” That upset and that glare was boring into Dennosuke. As the older of the two, it was his responsibility to be the mature one, and obviously looking at the humans from a reasonable distance was not an act of maturity in Ienari’s understanding.

“They didn’t see us,” Dennosuke muttered, eyes cast down rather than look at his heated brother.

“But they could have,” Ienari reminded. “You know what they could have done to you two?”

The silence was broken by Michitaro’s comment, “There’s a lot of possibilities.”

Ienari shook his head. “No, there’s not.” He turned, pointing to one of the towering suiko figures. “They’ll do to you what they did to our father, you want that Michi?” He looked to Dennosuke. “You want that Denno?”

The weight of Ienari’s projected guilt began to slump both of their shoulders. It was impossible to look him in the eyes now.

“No,” Dennosuke and Michitaro replied.

The tension dissipated with Ienari’s sigh. “Look, you know I don’t mind you guys heading out, even after the gates are closed. Shell, we’ve all done it. Just . . . consult one of us first, ok, so you don’t get swallowed up in the wiles of Michi’s unrealistic dreams.”

The moment Raijirou jumped off the platform, Ienari maneuvered for his take in the arena. It was from that distance where Dennosuke and Michitaro watched their brother wrestle in quiet.

“He always makes me feel like garbage,” Dennosuke muttered to himself, sighing as he tried to chase what pride he had back.

“Yeah, he sure does,” Raijirou commented with a chuckle as he crossed his arms. He looked at the berated brothers. “Hey, if you two hadn’t come back after my morning wrestling I would have gone off to look for you. We were concerned, okay?”

The moment of guilt faded a second later within the confines of Michitaro’s soul. He perked and leaned closer to Raijirou.

“Raij! You should’ve seen it! They looked so different, and their clothes. It makes me wonder if they ride horses a different way too, how crazy would that be!”

Raijirou’s eyes sparkled at the idea and he eagerly listened to the remaining comments Michitaro had of what he had witnessed the previous night. At least one of their older brothers was as enthused as they had been. But Ienari’s worry wasn’t misplaced. It was practical, like how Dennosuke should have been—but wasn’t.

The walk back to their home was quite for Dennosuke who took the moment to himself to meditate on all the pointed out mistakes, and which ones he agreed with and fought to disagree with. His mulling had been disbanded the moment Michitaro caught up with him and slung an arm around his neck.

“Nice going, Denno! You didn’t even mention Unohana,” Michitaro praised.

“Unohana?” Dennosuke questioned.

“The human. It was weird to call her ‘she’ or ‘human lady’ so I figured it was best to give her a name.” Michitaro crossed his arms and nodded to solidify his decision. Dennosuke just sighed, his pace picking on their walk back to their hut. He was exhausted and just wanted to cry himself to sleep, which honestly wouldn’t take long.

When they moved into their home, Dennosuke quickly went to his section and fell into his blankets. He was ready for sleep to embrace him in its silent pitch-black arms, but a commotion too near to him stirred his irritation. He leaned up, turning his head to look at his brother standing just outside his room. He was just under the arch when he watched Michitaro reveal a small squared case. From the look on his brother’s face, Dennosuke concluded that Michitaro was willing and ready to partake in an investigation.

Sitting down, Michitaro looked the case over and then tapped against its wooden structure. Dennosuke shifted to his arms and knees before leaving the comfort of his nest.

“What is that?”

Michitaro looked up. “Unohana’s box, at least I think it’s hers. Dunno, it was near her when we found her.”

“You just decided to keep it?” The pitch in Dennosuke’s words alerted them both of the seriousness of the situation. His brown eyes darted around, as if at any moment Raijirou or Ienari would pop out of a hiding spot, having seen and heard everything.

“Hey, you’ve got that bang stick of hers,” Michitaro defended, giving Dennosuke a glance at his pack and then jutting his nose into the air. He carried on his exploration of the box from there. “How does one even open this?”

Dennosuke was busy holding his pouch protectively, wishing that Michitaro hadn’t seen him slip that strange stick into it, but he had to know more about it, especially if it was supposed to be a weapon used against their kind. The sound of unlatching clips tinging into the air alerted Dennosuke to the opening, and he got a good view of the contents inside.

“Wooow!” Michitaro pulled out the parchments, browsing through them. “You think she did all this? She’s amazing!”

Dennosuke couldn’t help but lean closer. Along the papers were sketches of human buildings, and even a few humans themselves. They were quite good, but Michitaro and Dennosuke had to admit the colored ones were the best pictures.

“What are these?” Michitaro picked up what looked like pigmented squares, feeling them against his fingers for a moment before he slowly brought it toward his mouth. Dennosuke was quick to swat that idea out of his head and hand. “Ow, what gives?”

“It could be poisonous, you idiot!” With a huff, Dennosuke reached down and stole the box and its contents out of Michitaro’s complaining grasp. “No, no. We’re going to put this back where we found it. Don’t want any human coming to look for it.”

“Ah, what a shame.” The tone in Michitaro’s voice turned from bordering complaint to bordering excitement. It struck a nerve with Dennosuke who glared at him annoyingly, but it didn’t effect Michitaro like he wished it would, instead the younger only grinned wider.

. . .

Ever since remembering, April couldn’t get the image out of her head. In that moment of panic and fright and startle, there had been a figure, a face in the light of her gun’s charge. And it was that face she was trying to draw right now.

April sighed out a moan, dropping her head onto the desk. “No, no, no.” She moaned again, frustration lacing her features when she sat back and looked at the various attempts to sketch what she’d seen. It’d been days since that frightful event, but the image remained clear as day in her mind, and yet her hands didn’t want to cooperate.

She had about eleven attempted sketches of the thing she saw in the fire light that night. But each time she looked at the finished or partially finished piece something just struck a nerve with her. Maybe it was her sense berating her for her foolish chase, or perhaps it was her perfectionist side that made her yearn to relive that moment—or at least that image—so she could take her time to finalize every detail with pencils and then complete it looks with color, the right colors.

April missed her art case. Most of her pencils were in there, and all of her pigments. Even what collected pieces she had was stashed away in that case. She must have dropped it during her run.

Twisting in her seat, she glanced out of her room. From her position she could see the housemaid Minako roaming about cleaning and straightening up the place, beyond her were a set of windows where the open road could be seen. The outside called to her, but April wasn’t sure if she was ready.

After lunch April wrapped herself in a shawl and moved toward the living room where he uncle was lounging in a rocking chair and gazette in hand. An old one, but something to read during his time in Japan.

“Uncle Augie.”

Augustus started, looking toward his niece. He smiled instantaneously. “April, it’s nice to see you outside of your room.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that maybe, if you could, show me around the shops today?” Given the daylight it’d be easier for her to see if she had left her case near the bench she found herself asleep on those days ago, or maybe if she had left it anywhere else near the market place.

“You want to go out?” Clapping the paper together, her uncle folded the piece and set it aside. He was to his feet an instant later. “Of course, let me get my jacket.”

Despite her close-clung independency, having Uncle Augie escort her around the shops made April feel safer. His experience and fluency with the land and people helped her immensely, and for one of the first times since she’d arrived she felt care free and happy.

“Uncle, in there!” April’s eyes sparkled at the shop full of brushes, paper, and paint. Along the walls were scrolls of paintings as well, the style fascinating and distinct. It was instantaneous attraction.

Her uncle watched on as she roamed about the shop, he himself striking up friendly conversation with the owners that April couldn’t follow. Picking up bottles of intriguing colors as she went, she paused when she noticed a set of paintings off in the corner depicting strange creatures, monsters really. There was a variety of them.

“Uncle Augie?” April called out, holding onto one of the hanging pieces. “What are these?” On the painting there were depicted four creatures, each attacking the other whilst one human wrestled in the middle.

Turning back to the owners, her uncle inquired about the piece and as he was informed he returned the information in English.

“It’s called the Enemies of Man. Tengu, the winged creature, Kitsune, the fox like creatures, Oni, those ogre looking ones, and Kappa, the ones that kind of look like turtles.” That explanation would have been fine enough, but April noticed the owner carrying on the topic with deep interest. And so Augustus continued. “He says that these creatures are comprised in clans, and humanity is itself a clan. He says they’ve been at war with these creatures for thousands of years and that if any should cross paths they wouldn’t hesitate to try and kill the other.” April watched her uncle’s brows rise before he chuckled. “Ah, Japanese fairytales, April. You know, like the ones your father and I used to tell you when you were little.”

While Celtic and Japanese mythos likely had many similarities, April couldn’t shake the strange feeling that the shop owner was an avid believer in these spiritual creatures. She wondered how many saw the stories as fact and interwoven in their histories. Though, to be fair, April even couldn’t take her eyes off of the painting, especially the green tinted monster that clawed at the human.

April had gotten the painting in the end along with many bottles of paint. After a stop down the eating district she sat down at a familiar place and looked the painting over.

“Getting tired already?” Augustus stood near, a wagasa on his shoulder, twirling with a flick of his fingers to keep his pale skin from the sun’s wrath. “Not my April.” He chuckled teasingly. “And here I thought we’d be out all night.”

Letting out a sigh, April rolled the painting up and placed it into the bag where her paint bottles were stored. She sat longer still for a moment, looking around and feeling the bench beneath her with her hand. It was that bench she woke up on that one morning, she was sure of it. But she was as confused about her surroundings now as she was the day she found herself there.

Twisting, April noticed the forest in the back, just beyond the outskirting houses, with trees heavy and full of green leaves rustling in the breeze wiping toward them. She remembered the forest closer, all around her actually. And then the things inside . . .

Looking around, there was no sign of her art case. April sighed again.

“Okay, let’s go home.” April stood and took her uncle’s arm as they sauntered off, away from the bench and the forest she couldn’t help but glance back at one more time.

Not that night but the following morning April saddled up the courage to go back out, alone. Right after her uncle offed to the temple she had snuck around Minako and left the house. By the time April had returned to the bench the sun was high and the day warm. Ignoring the passing crowds around as they ignored her she made it to the forest beyond.

The forest wasn’t as intimidating as it was in the dark. She used to hike often when her parents took her and her siblings to the country for an outdoor getaway. The woods were not foreign to her.

In the peace and quiet, April felt her courage spurred and a giggle bubble in her breast. Creatures. It was likely something akin to a raccoon she saw that night. Probably startled the poor thing. Hopefully she didn’t kill it, after all she had a gun . . . wait . . .

Where was the gun her uncle had given her? Lost somewhere with her art case maybe? Great.

Mind set and body well-rested, April was prepared to spend the entire day scouring what she could in search for her missing items. If anything, she hoped to find her case.

Having forgone lunch and supper, April was exhausted and hungry and just now noticing the diming light in the sky. It was dusk and time for her to head home before the night crept in. She was prepared to do just that in her discouraged state when she heard a rustle a little ways behind her.

Twisting around, her wide eyes scanned her surroundings, heart hammering in worry that perhaps there were bandits or bears. “Hello?” she called out to no response, not even further rustling. Of course not. She called out a few more times before she realized she must have misheard. Now certainly wasn’t the time to linger.

Turning, she stuck herself with the task to walk straight home. She had a good memory of the way she came so it wouldn’t be hard, however before she even took a step forward she paused, eyes looking at something she knows for certain hadn’t been in her path before.

There seated on the ground before her was her art case.

It had NOT been there before.

Unsettled limbs began to shake as April turned around again wondering if . . . if maybe . . . But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Hello?” she called out as she knelt down and picked up the case, holding it close to her torso. “Hello!”

Her calls echoed as if no one and nothing was there, but she knew that wasn’t true. She could feel eyes on her, and she didn’t think that . . . She needed to leave. And so she turned back homeward and walked until she exited the forest, until she passed all of the districts, until she walked through the front door with dinner wafting from the kitchen. Her uncle came out his own room as soon as the door had sounded with a slam!

“April? Where have you been all day?” He paused when he noticed her case. “You found it. Where was it?”

April breathed out a shuddering breath. “Right where . . . right where I left it.”

“That’s good to hear, but you really have to stop going out on your own, you know. Come on, Minako just finished dinner. I’ll bet you forgot to eat when you were out.” April followed the pull of her uncle and submitted to his care, but she simply couldn’t take his advice, not when her soul was raging that she go back out into that forest.

. . .

“Did you see, did you see? You saw that right? She came back, Unohana came back. It’s like she knew!” Michitaro was all grins as he twirled around Dennosuke’s work space, just like he had been during their second visit to the border of the human territory. He was just loud enough for Dennosuke to pull his eyes away from his work and glare at him, but obnoxious enough that he was sure if their other brothers were around they would just habitually drown him out.

“She seemed happy to see her paper box,” Michitaro went on before glancing down at his brother’s work. Currently he had dismembered Unohana’s bang stick. Pieces were laying everywhere atop the table in a tray, but they seemed as organized as Dennosuke usually placed them. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to give that back too?”

Dennosuke sighed, leaning away to look at his pressing brother. “I will after I figure out how it works.” He held up the iron components as well as the powder he found inside. “And I think I’m really close.”

Michitaro nodded, interested enough, but his growing smile was for something else. “That means we’ll get to see her again.”

“We don’t know if she’ll come looking for her stick,” Dennosuke explained.

“But she was there when we were there returning her box. It’s fate, brother!”

It was a strange coincidence how the human—Unohana, as Michitaro named her—happened to be in the forest on the same day they had managed to evade their brothers to return and drop the item off. Dennosuke wondered if she had been looking for her lost items all this time, now wondering if Michitaro’s assumptions will prove true and that she’ll be there when they were ready to give the stick back.

She was.

“I was right, I was right, I was right!”

“Shut up!” Dennosuke grabbed his loud-mouthed brother who didn’t have the skill to whisper properly. His wide eyes were on the human who was sitting down in the grass near a particularly tall tree. Beside her was the box they had returned to her, and in her hands was a piece of paper. She was drawing, no, painting something.

“I wonder what she’s doing.” Michitaro’s neck stretched as if he would get a better look that way. No, they’d have to circle around to manage to stand behind her. At this vantage point they could only see everything frontal.

“She’s painting,” Dennosuke explained, he nodded to her pad set atop her box, and the smear of pigments lain over, as well as the array of brushes present.

“I wonder what she’s painting,” Michitaro said with a sigh of disappointment—disappointment that he couldn’t see what it was from where he was crouched.

“Trees for all I care, now can we do what we came here to do?” He held up the stick before Michitaro’s eyes who looked it over before a sharp grin curled his lips.

“Look, Denno, if you’re scared, I can do it.”

Scared? Dennosuke wasn’t scared. They gave back the box before, what difference would this return be? How dare Michitaro call him scared?

Oh.

Looking at the hand holding the stick, Dennosuke realized he might be shaking. Slightly, just slightly.

“No, I’ll do it,” Dennosuke swore, knowing that Michitaro was too carefree and wouldn’t at all be concerned if he was caught during the return. Which was probably the reason he wasn’t the one a shaking mess.

Taking a breath, Dennosuke crept around, hearing the soft encouraging, “Go, go, go!” from his brother. One last glare back made him silence himself. Now, all Dennosuke could focus on was the rattling of his nerves.

 _You can do this, Dennosuke. If Michi can be quick enough to drop the paper box off and dart back into the foliage before the human could react then you can do the same_. Dennosuke’s inner cheering wasn’t as helpful as he wished it was. He blamed it on the scarcity of trees in this location and his own intent to make sure the human received the stick right back in her hands.

He was there now, right behind the tree she propped herself near. Just below laid her paper box and the pad of colors and brushes. Dennosuke was going to put the stick right beside them. Reaching out around the trunk, Dennosuke slowly lowered the bang stick he had expertly put back together. It didn’t at all make a sound on the pad, and it wouldn’t when he let go of it fully, however he never did because Unohana reached over to grab another brush and grabbed his hand instead.

The startle made the human jump, her body jumped as she turned and looked at him with wide eyes. A moment later she was screaming, limbs flailing even as she crawled away in an attempt to get back to her feet. A quick glance back over to Michitaro’s hiding spot gave Dennosuke a visage of his younger brother’s wide eyes and hand-squished face of horror.

Dennosuke didn’t know what to do besides twist back for cover. He was frozen against the tree trunk, and he was absolutely certain the circumference of which did not conceal him entirely. Oh shell.

At least the screams stopped. Unohana was heaving, but she was wide-eyed, awake, and still standing. She was looking toward Dennosuke, and while he knew that, he remained frozen in place, eyes screwed closed hoping this was just some lousy discouraging dream. It was such a shame that it all felt so real.

The moment the human took some brave steps closer, leaning over to peer more behind the tree, Michitaro darted out of the bushes, hands waving. “No! No!” He slid between Dennosuke and the human, hands up. “Don’t hurt him, Unohana! We were gonna give your bang stick back, we promise!”

Dennosuke’s eyes popped open the moment he heard Michitaro. Gapping, he jumped at the sight before him. There Michitaro was, on his knees and hands in the air. He was between him and the human, protective but begging.

Instantly, Dennosuke reached out and took hold of Michitaro’s shoulder, giving him a tug as a signal that he was there and that he would defend him if he had to. But while he knew their hearts hammered, Dennosuke couldn’t help but see their same eyes in the bright irises of the human standing before them. She was just as frightened.

When the human mirrored Michitaro’s pose and rose her own hands Dennosuke wondered if the danger of their situation would vanish. Could it be? Even from a creature as dangerous as a human?

Dennosuke tugged again, just to get Michitaro to his feet. They stood there, all three of them, for a while in silence. Minutes or maybe hours, they all stared at each other, neither having been so close to another of their kind. Ever.

“Denno, the stick.” Dennosuke felt Michitaro nudge him with his elbow. It broke him out of his stupor and instantly he held out the object.

The human looked confused at the sight of it, but it didn’t matter, Dennosuke shook it as a sign for her to take it. The following moment, she did. As soon as it was in her hands, and she looked it over, Dennosuke felt worry bubble inside him over whether or not he put it back together properly. What if he didn’t? What if she noticed?

Then those unnaturally blue eyes were on them again, more specifically Dennosuke. They roamed down him, taking him in with long sweeps. They paused for a moment, and when they had Dennosuke looked down to notice they were looking at the nick he had in his plastron where the small stone had struck him that night.

Something flashed across her eyes then. It was hard to discern what it was given the fact that humans don’t feel like kappa do. Yet, it almost looked like remorse.

When she stepped forward, hand out as if to touch, both boys took a quick jump back. They waved her away, trying to motion they didn’t want her to come within an arm’s reach. She seemed frustrated, but then she held up a finger—a strange gesture—before she moved back toward her papers. She picked up two pieces and then held it out to them as if to show what she had been painting.

It was kappa. Or, maybe, more specifically; them. That was an instant pull at Michitaro’s fascination.

“Oooh, sweet!” He was the first to lean forward, the first to come closer even as he took up one of the pieces with no reservations and looked it over. “It’s me!” He grinned, looking back at Dennosuke. “Denno, she’s painting us!”

Dennosuke was much quieter than his counterpart. He took turns glancing at his relaxed brother standing much too close to the human and then toward Unohana. She hadn’t made any further moves, in fact she looked just as intrigued at Michitaro’s reactions and proximity as they were of hers. His eyes then roamed to the other painting, an atypical kappa, it could be anyone, but it was a better rendition than what they’ve known humans to sketch them as. Had she done this all from memory? Amazing.

“Denno! You’ve gotta see what else she’s been up to!” Both Unohana and Dennosuke turned to see Michitaro crouched down next to her box, sorting through the papers. “Oooh, these are good.” He twisted, holding up a paper. “Can I keep this one?”

Once more Dennosuke and Unohana’s eyes met. He watched her move, slowly. When she returned back to her box, kneeling down beside Michitaro, Dennosuke felt a pull to move forward. After all she was a little closer to Michitaro then he thought was safe. What he saw over Michitaro’s shell was the human showing him the different sketches and paintings, and then he watched with equal interest as she pulled out a blank piece and took out a thin stick, charcoal.

Unohana began to draw lines and curves until an image became clear. And this image was better than what they had seen before. Michitaro twisted toward Dennosuke showing nothing but teeth. “She’s drawing me, Denno!” It didn’t take her long, and when she was finished she turned the paper toward them. Michitaro took it in his hands then hugged it to his plastron. “I love it!”

“April.” The both of them paused and watched her press a hand to her chest, pointing. “April.”

“What’s she saying?” Michitaro asked, looking up at his brother.

Dennosuke shrugged. “I-I don’t know.” But he listened, trying to find any similarities in their languages. It was hard to find any.

“April,” she said again.

Dennosuke blinked. “I think I get it.” He extended his arm, pointed toward her. “April.”

Then she smiled. It made her look . . . pleasant. When she nodded, Dennosuke understood it completely.

“She’s telling us her name. It’s April,” Dennosuke explained to Michitaro.

“April, huh?” Michitaro nodded himself, patting his plastron in a similar manner. “Michitaro.” When she looked confused, Michitaro said it again. “Michi-taro. Or just Michi for short, up to you. Though, I still think Unohana was a nice name for you. You can always change back to that, you know.”

April’s brows furrowed further. Dennosuke rolled his eyes, sighing. “Stop bombarding her with a language she doesn’t understand.”

“Okay, then you translate, oh smart one.” When Michitaro crossed his arms with a ‘humph,’ Dennosuke resisted rolling his eyes again.

“I don’t understand either, but I know what she’s _trying_ to say.” He offered a small smile of his own, waving his hand at her to get her attention. He patted his plastron. “Dennosuke.”

April nodded, immediately trying to mimic the name. “Dennysake.”

Michitaro’s laughter startled the both of them. “Aha! Oh yeah, that’s totally his name, haha!”

“Quiet, Michi,” Dennosuke demanded with a short stamp. He pulled his attention away and once more patted his plastron. “D-enn-o-su-ke.”

“Deonosukie.” It was worse the second time around, as was Michitaro’s ear-shattering laughter. And in Dennosuke’s embarrassment and frustration he heard the human—April—laugh. He turned to her, watching as she joined in with Michitaro.

“Sorry,” she said. Dennosuke didn’t understand that, but he recognized the apologetic look in her eyes. It was still so strange to see humans with kappa emotions.

“It’s alright,” Dennosuke assured. He smiled along with them because this was absolutely crazy and all at once the most amazing thing that’s ever happened in all his years alive.

Oh great Kami, please, just this once, don’t let this be a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes . . .  
> I'm not too savvy on the lingo spoken during the mid 1800's, so a lot of their dialogue will likely seem kinda "modern." It's fanfiction alright!  
> Yes, Leo's a little bit of a jerk, if only because he's overprotective; as he was in the 2014/2016 films. He gets better.  
> Mikey's nickname for April, "Unohana," is actually a reference to a flower that blooms in Uzuki, which is the month of April. Yeah, see what I did there? :P


	3. Friends and Family

Kappa weren’t anything like April’s seen depicted or described. Instead of sharp claws they have triad hands. Their skin isn’t necessarily covered in scales but green-tinted and smooth to the touch, albeit a little clammy. They certainly weren’t small. The two she knew personally towered over her as any grown man would. The talk about a water dish on their heads was greatly exaggerated. And their eyes, while usually depicted as wild and feral like a cat’s, were actually full of life and emotion—so very much like a human’s. The only thing the people of Japan got right about these legendary creatures was the sizable shell on their back.

April O’Neil was no doubt the first and only to successfully sketch and paint a detailed kappa.

At the moment she was adding the final touches to the irises. Biting her lip in excitement, April flashed her bright eyes toward her model who sat a little ways from her, patting his thighs in prolonged patience. Just as she turned to dip her brush into the mixed golden color, her light vanished.

With brows furrowed, April looked up to see what had blocked her sunlight. Of course it would be the smaller of the kappa, leaning over to see her progress.

“Misete! Misete!” He said. April still wasn’t too well versed with the Japanese language, or the kappa version of it anyway, but she knew tone when she heard it.

“No, I’m not finished yet.” Immediately she turned to hide her work. Her friend made a groan and tried to peak around, but she persisted enough for him to give up and return back to sit beside his brother.

“He wants to see.” April turned her eyes toward the taller one. After two weeks of secret rendezvous between the three, only he’s managed to make headway in communication. Clearly the brighter of the two—of all three of them. She was absolutely amazed by how quickly he picked up on her language, feeling only disappointed in herself for not being able to communicate properly in their native tongue. Despite her dismay, the two never seemed deterred by her lack of communication, and the tall one only seemed to encourage her to speak English, no doubt so that he could learn it further.

With a nod, April looked to the smaller one. “When I’m finished. You know I would have painted you first if you’d sit still.”

The tall one chuckled, his smile tender as he looked at the younger. They were brothers too, and often times April found herself trying to match similarities between the two, for paintings sake of course. As an afterthought April wondered about their parents, if they had any, or even how they came to be. But those were wonders for another time.

Right now she finally finished the piece. Looking at it endearingly, April exhaled proudly and then scooted closer to the two, showing them a finely finished painting of Dennosuke. April still had problems pronouncing names so she mentally referred to them as the ‘Taller One’ and the ‘Younger One.’ It was problematic and rude, she knew, and she hated how hard it was for her to properly pronounce a Japanese, or Kappa, name.

Of course Dennosuke noticed the wrong spelling at the bottom where April had written the title. She’d even learned how to write their names as she had taught them her signature. Not that any of them could write anymore words or even read an entire novel from each other’s libraries, but she should have at least gotten the kanji right.

“Here.” Dennosuke took up her brush and corrected the mistake. “Like this.”

April huffed. “You know what, fine, I admit it. I’ll never be good at it, sooo . . .” She took up her pencil and then jotted down a name written in English.

Dennosuke and Michitaro tilted their heads and curiosity at it. April only smiled.

“Donatello,” April announced with a wide smile. She brushed away her embarrassed blush, waving off the offense of giving up on a name. “I’m calling you Donatello from now on.”

There was a worry that Dennosuke would be offended and upset. After all, he and his brother accepted her name and the way it was pronounced. But in her observation, she watched him look over the letters, moving a finger over them in the way they were written.

“Dona . . . tello.”

April’s smile widened. Wow, he almost got that pronunciation spot on. “That’s right, he was an artist too.”

“He painted?” Denno—Donatello looked at her painting and then at her.

April shook her head. “Sculpted. Very renowned, and something I think would fit you. Is that alright? Can I call you that?”

Despite Michitaro’s contagious smiles, Donatello really did harbor the sweetest of smiles, and April adored seeing them because that kappa tried his hardest to remain stoic even behind curious eyes.

“You can call me whatever you want,” he said, looking back down at the name. “Donatello.”

April then turned her eyes toward the younger of the two, the one currently holding a brush in one hand, a smooth stone in another, and painting over it with her colors. Somehow she’d have to get him to sit still for longer than a minute. Painting takes patience and detail of which was hard to ask of from Michitaro. However, perhaps one thing would be easier to get from him. A name.

“Michelangelo.”

Donatello looked away from the painting toward April. When he noticed her stare toward his brother, he turned to look at him too. “Michitaro,” he called. The name turned his attention away from the gray-to-orange rock and finally looked at the two.

“Huh?”

Donatello nodded toward April who was pointing at him saying, “Michelangelo. It’s what I’m going to call you.”

For all she couldn’t communicate she trusted Donatello to finish as he explained the situation to his brother. After the information set it, April watched Michelangelo’s features brighten and an accepting smile washed over him.

Nodding vigorously, Michelangelo said, “I am Michelangelo!”

She sighed in relief, glad they liked the names. It almost brought April back to a younger time when she brought home stray animals, giving them a validating name to her mother as if proof the creature belonged. Though, these two were far from the various cats and dogs April used to find on the streets of New York City. They were an entity in their own; intelligent, full of wonders and curiosities, and amazingly gentle with her—a far cry from what the Japanese had set them as.

But even from where she stood she understood their reservations for her, or likely her kind, and she wondered if their people painted humans in a similar fashion. April wouldn’t be surprised if that were indeed the truth, however, the thought of more of them baffled her. How could these beings stay hidden for so very long? Especially if there were many more of them.

There was a wonder deep down inside, and April had to constantly push it back down knowing she couldn’t go gallivanting off to explore the whole of Japan for these likely kappa settlements. But in that she wondered if perhaps the other mentioned creatures existed too. With the two as proof before her, she had a feeling it wasn’t so farfetched.

Digging into her pocket, April pulled out a pocket watch. In her ventures and continual endeavors to come home late, her uncle offered her one of his own pocket watches. The hands frustrated her to the fact that it was nearing 5, and that meant supper with her uncle who would be returning from his shift soon. She didn’t want to bother him further with her absence, and certainly didn’t want to give him a stronger reason to personally go out in search of her. Unfortunately her first task in her preparations to leave was gathering up her utensils and paints, many of which were in Michelangelo’s hands.

Already he had an array of painted rocks, currently working on smearing another. He had finished one coat and looked it over for a moment before running his tongue along the surface. April and Donatello simultaneously cringed.

“Oh, ew, why do you keep eating that?” Even from where Donatello sat he could see his brother’s tongue changing color from the different paints he was “taste-testing.”

“Because I can,” was Michelangelo’s reply. Of course it was.

In Michelangelo’s current apt to taste than paint, it gave April the opportunity to snatch the brush and paints he was using. Immediately he twisted, trying to catch her as she retreated with the materials.

“Aww, whyyyy?” Rolling over, Michelangelo rocked back onto his shell, draping an arm over his face in dramatic fashion.

“It’s dinner time,” she informed them as she stuffed all of her materials into her case and snapped it shut. She glanced back at them. “I’m sure it is for you two as well.” It was the usual parting lingo, though accompanied with the usual disappointed response . . .

“You’re leaving?” Donatello turned away from his brother and looked at April with displeased eyes.

April nodded, tapping her watch. “Have to. Will you two be here tomorrow?”

Though presently urged to separate, April’s latter comment promised a reunion. The both of them smiled, understanding the question. “Of course,” Donatello replied.

“Great, see you then.” Waving them off, April turned and left with a racing heart. In the whole of the two weeks that she’s known the brothers, never once did her excitement wane. It was something she lived on now, and something she hoped she’d never stop feeling when she got that chance to race back.

. . .

“It’s nagatsuki already? Wow, times flies when you’re having fun with a human.” Michitaro, or Michelangelo, chuckled. Despite his off-handed comments, he wasn’t wrong.

As they entered back into the city there were new colored banners draped along the houses and hanging from the arches. It was tradition to change color every month, and with the new month reining in, and Michelangelo’s comment, Donatello realized how long it’s been since they met April, and how much further it was since they’ve committed to meeting. They try to do so every day, and it’s what Michelangelo prefers but realistically there are days they can’t make it, where they can’t escape from household duties or the sharp eyes of their older brothers. It’s frustrating and Michelangelo always makes a fuss, but they try the next day or the day after. April seems to understand when they miss a few days and shares in their excitement when they reunite. It was wonderful, really, and something Donatello and Michelangelo would likely do for many more weeks, months, and hopefully years to come.

“Oh, oh! There’s Aki and the other beauties.” Michelangelo nudged his brother with his elbow, a confident smile sharpening his lips. When Donatello turned to look toward the girls, he noticed they were mingled around the western springs. They dyed the waters around that time of the year, creating an array of eye pleasantries, it was why a lot of the adolescent kappa tended to gather near those particular sets of pools, that and it was a popular spot for the girls, so naturally the young boys would gravitate toward them as well, just like Michelangelo was.

Donatello then noticed something in his brother’s hand. Michelangelo flicked it into the air and caught it in his tight grasp. It was one of the painted rocks he had brought back with him.

“What are you doing?” Donatello questioned as he watched his brother strut off toward the gathered group.

From there he beheld it all; Michelangelo approaching Aki, one of their most beautiful upcoming kappa. He didn’t even care about her entourage who all watched him with humorous eyes and held back smiles. When Michelangelo presented her the rock, Donatello noticed interest flash across Aki’s eyes. Well, that was different.

Michelangelo has been straightforward since birth. Even from a younger age, he’s been approaching the beautiful and offering them rocks. It was a kappa’s form of endearment, an offer to build a nest together, and, well, if the girl took the stone then she accepted the offer. This is the fiftieth time Michelangelo’s offered Aki a stone, but the first time it was color coated.

“Nice color, Michitaro. You got a little of it . . . all over.” Aki giggled as she pointed to Michelangelo’s orange coated fingers, and the smears along his plastron. Shaking her head she moved away with her girls, passing Donatello’s little brother as they went, including his attempted offer.

Michelangelo sighed. The disappointment would last approximately 4.5 seconds, or in this case shorter as another lovely looking kappa trailed past Michelangelo. His slumped shoulders rolled back, and stance straightened. Wide eyes followed and only a half second later he was running after her. The usual cycles of Michitaro, or Michelangelo as Donatello would later title. However, even this usual behavior was viewed with skeptical eyes from their elder brothers.

“Since when did those two get closer?” Ienari stood watching his youngest brother fawn over the girls from a distance, arms crossed and stance coiled back. After a short moment he glanced over toward Donatello, his gaze just as perplexed.

“Why? Ya jealous?” Raijirou chuckled, bumping his fist into his brother’s arm. He almost knocked him off his balance. Almost.

“It’s not that,” Ienari assured, giving his brother a look before turning back to his observations. “They’ve been out a lot. Not after dark, but there are times they’re gone all day.”

“Yeah? Well, they’re at that age where they’ll wander. Nothing wrong with that. It’s not like they shirk their chore duties.”

“Do you think they’re going back near the humans’ territory?”

Raijirou gave Ienari a look for even suggesting it, but he didn’t say anything to divert that possibility. Instead he shook his head with a sigh. “So what if they are? They obviously manage to come back unscathed.”

“But that’s dangerous, and it could get them hurt, or even killed,” Ienari explained.

Raijirou threw his hands up, waving his brother off. “I know humans are dangerous, but so are our brothers. You think they ain’t got the skill to defend themselves?” Ienari was only allowed a brow raise before Raijirou moved away with a smug grin. He marched straight toward Donatello who was then promptly grabbed back the arm and tugged along back to their hut.

Ienari heard his younger brother’s fading protests, and after they were out of earshot, he understood what Raijirou intended. With eyes set on their youngest brother, Ienari approached Michelangelo while he was sweet-talking a girl. In similar fashion to Raijirou, Ienari grabbed his youngest brother by the lip of his shell, pulling him again despite his complaints.

“Ah, ah, what gives, Ienari? I’ll talk to you later, my sweet marimo!” Michelangelo wiggled the entire way back, and when Ienari pushed his brother toward the back of their hut where no one could see he found Raijirou there along with Donatello. Currently, Raijirou was ramming their younger brother and while a frontal attack would usually knock a kappa back and urge him to turn around and utilize his hardest defense, Donatello shook off the shock with crossed arms and proceeded to shake off every strike Raijirou thrust at him.

“Ah, really?” Michelangelo. Hesitant eyes looked over toward where Raijirou was forcing Donatello to spar. A glance behind him had him see his oldest brother stretch his arms and shake his hands, preparing to enter into similar combat—with him.

Taking a crouched stance, Ienari waved for his brother to approach. “Show me what you got, Michi.”

While Michelangelo’s usual lazy sense of any necessary action slouched him, the next moment he shook of that lethargic hesitation and moved into his usual position. Then he charged.

Kappa were known for their legendary wrestling skills, and each of the brothers were skilled in that aspect on individual levels. Raijirou was no doubt the best. But, when the others weren’t looking. When they were home together in their hut on the outskirt of the city, pressed up against the gates, in the concave they had crafted for necessary space, they spared with moves never before seen nor practiced by their fellows.

They struck out with thrusting arms, and swinging kicks, using limbs that would usually be tucked close and shielded by their shells. Yet none retreated into that obvious defense, instead they kicked, punched, rammed. It was a technique they’ve known for years, and practiced in secret still.

“Yah!” There went Donatello into the structure of the nearby wall. The sound of his shell collided with it sounded a loud CLACK and down went the kappa. But he got up a moment later, eyes on fire and infuriated that he was overpowered so easily. His enthusiastic jump back into his session with Raijirou made Ienari proud.

Ienari’s own partner wasn’t one to be ignored either. One look away and Michelangelo disappeared from visual angle. Ienari didn’t see him again until he had come around to shove a knee into his tender side. Hopping away, the oldest shook off the sting and ground his teeth at the smug look on his brother’s face who skipped around as if playing. Some things would never change.

The first strike came from Ienari’s heel. Michelangelo dodged it, but Ienari anticipated that and therefore twisted to meet his brother’s evasion. From there he managed to jam his elbow right into the collar of Michelangelo’s plastron.

“Ouch!” Michelangelo jumped back, rubbing at the spot. His eyes narrowed at Ienari and the older would have prepared for a strike back hadn’t Donatello tumbled toward him instead and in the confusion, Raijirou took the opportunity to strike at Michelangelo this time, swinging powerful punches at him, one coming so close that the youngest reverted his head into his shell. “Whoa! That was kinda close, Raij!”

“That’s kinda the point,” came Raijirou’s smirking response as he continued throwing punches, forcing Michelangelo to dodge.

After Donatello caught his balance he only had time to inhale a breath before Ienari jumped and lunged at him. They collided, knocking the younger off of his feet until they tumbled to the ground. Ienari sat atop, reigning down strikes from above until Donatello caught himself, and Ienari’s arms.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Denno?”

Donatello huffed, straining the muscles in his arms to push back. “I’ve been busy, Ienari!” With a rock forward he shoved his older brother off of him, retreating to scramble to his feet. Raising his hands he exhaled to steady his breathing, a good form and reaction.

“Busy, huh, with what?” Ienari rushed forward again, chopping his way to wear down Donatello’s defenses. It wouldn’t take long, especially after Raijirou already battered him. “Was it going to the human territory just so you can see more westerners?” There was an opening and Ienari took it, striking Donatello against his plastron, the force enough to make him stumble back.

Once again the sparing pairs crossed paths and as soon as Michelangelo jumped over Raijirou and slid down his shell he was right in way of Ienari’s assault. Those wide hatchling eyes of his didn’t save him from his brother’s strength and agility. Ienari’s well-aimed kick sent him tumbling right back into his brother Donatello, and down the two fell in a tangled mess.

Michelangelo recovered first, Spinning and shaking off the impact with a few bounces, throwing his fists up in readiness. “I’m halfway to a millennium. I think I’m old enough go wherever I want.” With his eyes focused on Ienari in front of him, anticipating a move, he didn’t catch Raijirou sneak up behind him until his arm was grabbed and twisted behind his shell. “Ah! Ah! No fair! Two on one. Cheaters!”

Ienari gave Raijirou a look that had him letting go. Michelangelo moaned, muttering mean names whilst he rubbed his arm. “And you think the humans will play fair if they catch you?” Behind Michelangelo, Donatello got back to his swaying feet. “If you can’t protect yourself from the likes of us, then you can’t against any human.” The fighting style was the human’s anyways.

“You keep thinking we run off to court death and that’s simply not true,” Donatello finally spoke up, as frustrated and bruised as his brother. “Just because you’re older doesn’t give you the right to act this way toward us.”

“And what gives you two the right to go into human territory?” Ienari approached Donatello after his challenging statement. Usually the younger popped his head back into his shell. He didn’t this time.

“It’s not _in_ their territory per say.” All eyes turned toward Michelangelo. “What? I’m just saying the technicalities.”

“Michi, will you just not talk for once in your life?!” Donatello huffed, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. It was rare to see him so flustered and it was his tone that quieted Michelangelo.

“How close?” Ienari turned his eyes back toward Donatello.

“We weren’t in their territory,” Donatello parroted his younger brother.

“How close?” Ienari repeated by pushing himself closer.

“We weren’t in their territory!” Donatello didn’t back down, which in turn rose the frustration raging in Ienari. After a groan, Ienari threw up a hand and turned away. He might have even stalked off hadn’t his sharp gaze caught the incriminating residue of their out-of-city activities dotted along their youngest brother.

Moving toward Michelangelo he took hold of his wrist and examined the color coating his fingertips. That same scrutinizing gaze roamed over his arm, finding traces of the strange substance, and even along his plastron. When narrowed eyes met his brother’s, the youngest only averted gazes.

“Uh, there were these berries I found, really squishy.” In Michelangelo’s attempt to lie, the light from the sun illuminated the strange discoloration of his tongue and the patches of that residue caked over his teeth. When Ienari shoved his fingers into his mouth and pulled at his tongue he squirmed and squealed, even when his older brother let go. “Pah! Gross, Nari! I don’t know where your hands have been! Bleh!”

“Berries,” Ienari scoffed. “I guess you’re close enough to eat their poisons.”

“April said it isn’t poisonous,” Michelangelo defended. When a longer pause followed he realized his mistake. “Oh no . . .”

“April is it?” Raijirou hummed, crossing his arms. “That wouldn’t happen to be a human, would it?”

“You’re meeting with a _human_!?” Even though the both of them knew Ienari would eventually put two and two together after this assessment, that didn’t mean they both weren’t devastated that he’d finally found out.

“Oh, like how is this different from the rat?” Donatello kept pushing where he shouldn’t. No one’s ever seen him this worked up.

“ _That’s_ different because he doesn’t know about us,” Ienari defended. He motioned to Michelangelo. “But you two look like you’ve lost your inhibitions. You know where that’s going to get you? Dead.”

“But April’s not like that!” Michelangelo swore. “If you could just meet her—”

Ienari looked at Michelangelo. “You know what, Michi, that’s a very good idea. Maybe I will.”

“Wait, what?” Michelangelo’s eyes widened, especially when he received a wary look from Donatello. “Oh, no, please don’t do that!”

“Where are you guys meeting her? Is it along the way we used to run?” Ienari narrowed his eyes at the two. “It is, isn’t it?” Even in their silence he didn’t relent. “Fine, I’ll just have to find her myself, and I will.”

It was Michelangelo who suddenly threw himself at his brother, clinging to him with wide eyes. “Please don’t, Nari! You’ll scare her off.”

“It’ll be for the best. Kappa and human can never cohabitate.” Ienari said, shaking his brother off of him and moving to leave.

Wide eyes watched him go, and shaking feet rushed after. “Ienari, come back!”

. . .

She’d been curious before, but never managed to strike up any relation to ask either of them. But after Michelangelo’s continual consumption of her paint, April figured it was time to start bringing food.

The uncertainty of what they might like worried her as she scoured through her uncle’s garden in the back, and so it was up to her to comprise a menu of delights. If the brothers turned out to dislike the foods she prepped then at least she could finish the leftovers.

After picking what vegetables were ripe and then investigating the pantry she decided it was best to make something she was familiar with, and something that was appetizing. She had just the idea: pizzaiolo. Back in the city the Bertolli’s across the street were a kind family from Italy and they made the best foods, one of April’s favorites being their pizzaioloes. She had to makes some for the boys.

“Whatever you are baking smells amazing.” Augustus came in with a wide smile on his face and inhaling nostrils.

April smiled back. “I’m going out to paint again and figured I better pack lunch instead of waste your money on the food carts.” She was currently packing a basket with bottles and napkin cloths. She even shoved in some diningware for the sake of possible necessity.

“Can I have at least one?” her uncle pleaded.

“No,” April resolved much to her uncle’s displeasure. She wanted to save every disk just in case they liked it. The anticipation for that spurred a spring in her step as she made her way to the forest after she finished in the kitchen.

With a wide smile, she hauled her goods through the thicket. On one arm she slung the basket while in her hand was her art case. Her other arm cradled a stack of books. So she hadn’t told her uncle she was taking some of his encyclopedias, but they’d be back before he noticed them missing. On top of that they were just collecting dust. She knew a certain brown-eyed kappa who’d be more than interested to read the histories of the world.

When she made it to their usual spot where the trees circled and Michelangelo had crossed some logs for makeshift benches, April put her items down and waited. Some days she knew it could take a while, and so she often bid her time with painting, finishing pieces. She finished three before she put her brushes down with a heaving sigh.

Where were they?

Just as her patience wore, April perked at the sound of rustling. Eyes widened and smile appeared. She took up her food basket and moved toward their approach.

“Donatello, Michelangelo! You guys got to try what I made you!” Past the bushes and next thicket were a group of men. April paused, frozen when they turned their eyes toward her. “Oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt your camping trip.” They didn’t look like simple campers, nor wandering hikers. By the way they carried themselves and the small blades on their belts there really was one occupation they likely had.

Backing away, April wanted to turn and retreat, disappear as if they’d never seen her.

“I thought I smelt something.” Her Japanese was improving only to the point she could understand the language better. She looked at one of the men who came closer and poked her basket. It only made her jump again. Her reaction made the man laugh and a comment she couldn’t quite decipher made the others belt out laughter.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave,” April gave in slow Japanese. It made the man snort and what he said came out quite clear.

“You’ve got a long way to go before you fit in, westerner.” When he reached out to pull at one of her locks of hair, April slapped his hand away. His eyes widened at the reaction. His next action was to grab her basket, and April in all her issues refused to let go.

. . .

“It’s not that way, o-or that way!” Michelangelo was constantly in front of Ienari, waving at him, trying to keep him from walking a step further. But he was much smaller than his bother. “You’re not listening!”

“No, I’m not,” Ienari said, keeping his eyes away and on the road ahead as he moved through the bushes. “Because I know you’re trying to lead me in the wrong direction.”

Michelangelo crossed his arms. “I am not . . .” A sigh from Donatello as he passed him made the younger look at him. He looked just as defeated.

“Maybe today she won’t be there,” Donatello said in low hope.

“I’m kinda interested to see what human is braindead enough to think you’re their friends,” Raijirou commented as he bumped past Michelangelo. The comment, though ignorant, brightened the youngest of the brothers and in no time he matched pace with Raijirou in a bout to exclaim all the qualities of their human friend.

“She’s not braindead, Raij, she’s really smart—well, not as smart as Denno. She can’t really seem to grasp our language no matter how hard she tries—but she paints, oh, Raiji, she’s sooo good! And nice. I’ve never met a human so nice . . . though, I’ve never really met a mean one either.”

“That’s because we keep away,” Ienari spoke up, turning slightly to look back at his trailing brothers. “Whether kind humans exist, the fact is there are more evil ones than good. And so what if that human is nice to you? Did you ever think she might be luring you into a trap?” His sharp eyes then turned toward a quieter Donatello who glared back at him. “They eat our kind when they can, _remember_.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Raijirou held up his hands to signal a halt. All eyes were on him. “You hear that?”

After the noises were distinguishable and identified as an irregular disturbance, Michelangelo commented, “Sounds like a party.”

Confused looks passed around and then they followed Ienari’s lead. They crept up on what was causing the commotion. There was a group of humans not too far from them, four. A rough bunch who were shouting crude words and prodding at a woman in the middle.

“April!” Michelangelo gasped.

“We have to do something!” Donatello turned to their eldest brother, pushing against him.

Ienari was quiet, even as all eyes looked at him and the scene unfolding before them. Finally he sighed and said, “It could be a trap.”

Donatello and Michelangelo gawked. “A trap?” Donatello huffed. “Clearly you can see she is distressed!”

“All the more to rile you two idiots up so you go gallivanting closer.” Ienari shot them both a glare to keep them still.

April was clinging to a basket when a rough yank tossed her to the ground. The men were laughing at her. What they were saying disturbed all four of them, but Ienari stayed them while Raijirou waited for a personal reason to intervene.

April was gasping as she crawled away, but one of the men grabbed her dress and pulled her back until he thought it would be funny to take out his knife and begin cutting her train. That was when April began screaming.

Michelangelo was bouncing where he stood. His knuckles pressed to his lips and bright eyes dark with horror and worry. Raijirou was the only one keeping him from bounding off, his eyes on Ienari, waiting for a signal, any kind.

“She’s crying for help!” Donatello exclaimed. His eyes held the same fear present in Michelangelo’s eyes. It was something his older brothers have never seen in him.

Was this human really that precious to the two of them?

“If we go, they’ll see us,” Ienari stated.

“Who the shell cares. I don’t need any more reason to hope they don’t forget us.” Donatello bit out. Michelangelo nodded vigorously nearby.

The human’s screams made them all look until they couldn’t anymore. With a short nod towards Raijirou, Ienari approved of their reveal this once. Michelangelo was out first, jumping into the air and landing right behind one of the men. His landing was purposely heavy and the sudden THUD made the human jump around. Before he could even scream Donatello had come rounding around a tree, taking down the man cutting April’s dress with a sharp elbow. He went face down into the leaf covered ground, and Donatello was confident the human was no longer conscious.

“KAPPA!” The hysteria encouraged Michelangelo to push the human in front of him.

“You think you can treat Unohana like that? You mess with her, you mess with me, human!” His intimidating presence startled the human to turn and break away into a run. “Yeah, you better run!”

The other two huddled together, back to back. Wide eyes on Donatello and Michelangelo. Just as they focused their frightened attention of them, they didn’t hear the other two approach behind them.

“What a bunch of trash.” Raijirou’s comment had their shaking forms turning and it was in fact his arms that ended both their consciousness.

Ienari looked torn over what had happened and how they reacted, but when his eyes turned to the human girl he could see her shaking in Donatello’s arms, face pressed against his plastron and trembling fingers gripping his arm like a vice. There was something about the image that struck him, that made him upset over his decision to show themselves vanish.

“Is she alright, Denno?” Ienari asked, nodding toward him.

Donatello looked down, pulling back a little to lean over. He was speaking to her in a language neither Raijirou nor Ienari heard before.

“You speak her language?” Raijirou asked.

Donatello glanced at him and nodded. After another moment of conversation with the human, he said, “She’s shaken, but they didn’t get the chance to hurt her.”

“April, April!” Michelangelo came running up with a bent wicker basket in hand. “I got your basket. It’s a little roughed up, but the yummy smelling contents inside are safe.” His eyes looked her over and Ienari and Raijirou watched as he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. The sight of the three startled the other two. Ienari wondered how long this had been going on, and whether it would even be possible to separate the trio now.

A look passed between Raijirou and Ienari before the older motioned they approach. Keeping a polite distance, they still moved in to quell their curiosity about the creature their younger brothers were so fond of.

Her face was wet when she looked at Donatello and Michelangelo. But Ienari and Raijirou noticed how comforted she look just by being so close and sheltered by the two. They shared words with her, words that had her responding back slowly until her posture began to straighten. Yet, when those wide eyes fluttered away from what could be friends, the moment they settled on the other two kappa, those wide gleaming eyes gawked.

She took a step back, more into the two who were pressed close to show a form of protection. There was something that irritated Ienari about the way the human was digging her fingers into Donatello’s skin, and the way Michelangelo was reaching out in a touch to steady her as if he lacked all right caution. Centuries of instinct vanished into this strange rendition of faux friendship. But after everything that happened, Ienari wasn’t sure what he should do about it, about her, about his brothers.

“Kyoudai,” he heard Donatello say, while also speaking, “Brothers.” Which was likely the equivalent for the word in the language the human understood. It was only until Donatello spoke with her that Ienari watched the startle dissipate from her eyes.

The human rubbed her face, no doubt trying to wipe away the streaks and moisture. She nodded after that and smiled while dipping oddly and saying, “Greetings,” in their language. Accented, but understandable. When she said, “Thank you,” there was something in her tone and the way her eyes softened toward them that made Ienari unintentionally wary, if only because he’s never seen a human with so much emotion.

A moment later she was turning and taking the basket from Michelangelo. Pulling out disks of bread lathered with vegetable and sauced toppings, she handed the two younger kappa ones first before she reached out to offer them to Raijirou and Ienari. After a moment of hesitation they took it up, sniffing it curiously. It was Michelangelo who tried it first.

“Oh, oooooh! You guys, oh, you guys. Go ahead, take a bite and get ready to enter nirvana!” Leaning back, the youngest moaned in pleasure, quickly finishing the piece in a final bite.

Donatello was the next to take a bite, Raijirou following. Ienari watched their expressions go from skeptical to wide-eyed approving mouthfuls of the dish. Enthusiastic nods encouraged Ienari to take his first bite. It was the strangest taste, but something so unordinary that made it extraordinary. He rushed into that second and third bite just as quickly as his brothers had.

“I made more.” April dipped back into her basket and handed the rest to them, all of which were gobbled down quickly. She smiled at them, her face full of expressions the older two had never witnessed on an enemy until now. “Again, thank you so, so much. Especially you two.”

“This one’s Raijirou,” Michelangelo waved toward before twisting and motioning toward the eldest. “And the oldest, Ienari.”

“Raijiroo. Inury.” The butchery of their names made Raijirou laugh.

“She’s not so great with names,” Michelangelo admitted. “Which was why she gave this handsome guy right here the amazing name of Michelangelo. See that? I can pronounce that. And for Denno she named him Donatello. Isn’t it cool? Pet names, she likes us.”

“Pet names?” Raijirou snorted, giving his younger brothers a teasing look. “Is that what it is? You two her pets? Well, you certainly came to her like a bunch of loyal dogs.”

“Dogs, Raiji? Really. At least get a better lookin’ animal like a turtle,” Michelangelo scoffed. “I like turtles.”

“Yeah, of course you do,” Raijirou muttered, shoving the smaller in hopes to knock him off his ridiculous high. But Michit—Michelangelo recovered fast.

“Why did the other humans attack her?” Ienari questioned, looking at Donatello for translation.

After some short questions and responses, his brother turned back to him with a disappointed frown. “Because she comes from across the ocean. There’s apparently tension with the natives of this land and the ones coming over on the ships.”

Ienari was amazed how a clan as powerful as the human clan would resort to infighting. It was no doubt this ongoing clash that had kept their forces at bay from controversial territories. But Ienari knew that as long as they, themselves, were out of sight, out of mind, then it would give the human clan no reason to remember their grievances.

“Do you see now?” Eyes turned toward Michelangelo. “April’s just pure. She doesn’t mean any of us harm.”

Ienari’s eyes turned away as soon as Donatello began speaking to April again. Watching them converse amazed the eldest kappa. Donatello had always been smarter than most, his intelligence even on par with many of the adults in their clan. Now, seeing him speak a language he couldn’t have known for less than a month just blew him away. And the human understood him perfectly.

There was wonder in what they spoke of until tragic eyes turned toward him. The human looked at him as if he had just caused her the greatest offense.

“Oh please. I don’t wish to hurt.” Her chopped Japanese was manageable enough. The emotions that she lost in her botchy translation came out through her bright blue eyes. “My friends.” She motioned toward the two younger. It really was an absolute controversy, but Ienari was biting that fact down even as he watched the human’s truest colors. “My only,” she continued.

Not able to look at her pleading eyes for long, Ienari turned toward Donatello. “What’d you tell her?”

“Only that you don’t want me and Michi to meet her. That this is goodbye.” His eyes were downcast, disappointed even as the human pleaded. While he and Michelangelo had been rebellious in the past weeks over this human, Ienari knew their hearts. He knew that if he so forbade it for the reason of safety, they would honor him and abide in his wishes, but he also knew that if they did then they’d never look at him the same. And he wondered if he was willingly to live with that.

“Is this what all western gals wear?” There was Raijirou, crouched forward, tugging at her dress before decided to lift it and see what was underneath.

April gasped, pulling her dress back and stepping away. Michelangelo and Donatello laughed at that while explaining how rude it was to “lift a woman’s skirt.” Raijirou showed his apologies through his embarrassed face before he began inquiring more information about the western human, of which both younger brothers knew immensely about.

But when the laughter died down, when the lighthearted smiles fell, it was Michelangelo who spoke his remorse first. “I’m going to miss you, April.” She looked back with just as tragic eyes and even moved to lean into his arms. Both looked reluctant to let go. “Just give me about five years and I’ll be ready, guys.”

Raijirou sighed, moving back to stand beside Ienari. “Are you really going to do it, Nari? I mean look at them. She actually seems pretty nice. Maybe the western humans don’t know about us, so maybe that means they don’t hold anything against us either.” He looked toward where Michelangelo and the human embraced. “Well, except open arms.”

“But for how long?”

Raijirou rolled his eyes. “Who cares for how long? Look at that, for the first time in history a human’s touched one of us without trying to kill us. Those two idiots of ours did something no kappa in history could do since the beginning of time; became a human’s friend. I dunno, maybe it’s destiny.”

Destiny.

Ienari sighed, falling into his thoughts and staying there even as he made up his mind, turning to retrace his steps. His retreat was noticed by all three, and it was Michelangelo who groaned the loudest, releasing the human to fall back to his brother’s side.

“We’re leaving already? I wasn’t even done with the hug.” He pouted, looking back at the human who stood there looking on at their retreating forms with the sadness that matched the intensity in his heart. Even Donatello managed a passing touch before be too came back to trail Ienari.

Eyeing Michelangelo to his right, Ienari asked, “What are you doing?”

Michelangelo rose a brow. “Following you back home. It’s what you wanted, right?”

“ _I’m_ going home. I believe it’s dishonorable in every culture to leave a girl behind.” He stopped for a moment and nodded back to the human who looked ready to cry again.

Michelangelo stood there with a slack jaw. Donatello nearby carried a similar expression. “Oh, are you serious, Nari?” His smile returned in a heartbeat. Relief washed over Ienari when he witnessed his brother’s spirit return, worried for a moment that he’d never see it again.

A nod was all Michelangelo needed before he lunged at his brother, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he could. “You’re the best, you know that!” Just as quickly as the embrace came, it left. Ienari had never seen his brother race back to a human so fast. His eyes met Donatello’s after that and there was relief in his brown irises, a small smile forming on his lips. He was just as happy.

Watching the two return to the human was surreal, as surreal as it was to listen to himself encourage the encounter and friendship. Raijirou shifted beside him, and out of the corner of his eyes, Ienari could see a forming smile.

“This isn’t like you.”

Ienari knew that, but he nodded and accepted it anyway. “Neither is that, but it’s there, so for now I’ll let it be.”


	4. A Brother's Eyes

"Further, further, keep your eyes closed, we're almost there." Michelangelo's excited tone made April's heart beat enthusiastically, but she couldn't help her laughter while she was guided by leading hands on her shoulder, her own obediently laid over her eyes.

"How am I supposed to find my way here if this is going to be our new meeting spot?" She understood the desire for it being a surprise in the kappa's eyes, but honestly she had been walking blind for a good half hour now.

"Hmm, didn't think that far, but I'll figure out the details . . . eventually . . . just keep moving." Michelangelo wasn't the only one with her. Donatello was obviously nearby due to his acute commentary rising up every minute or so. And there was another, Raijirou, or Raphael as April's come to name. He was the only additional companion she's gained in the last few weeks after that incident. Whenever she inquired about their oldest brother, all three of them would teetered away from the subject, so April didn't ask anymore, but the kappa had always been on her mind.

A further step had April almost losing her footing, in that she had likely about stepped into something. It was Michelangelo's hands that pulled her back.

"Whoa, whoa, not that far."

"Maybe if you'd let her open her eyes she can see where she's going, _Mikey_."

"And ruin the surprise? Why would I do that, _Donnie_?"

"Will you two stop bickering and just let her see where she is?" April smiled at Raphael's comment, hoping the other two would be pressured enough to do just that.

Michelangelo sighed, but let go of her. "Alright, tell us what you think."

The image that April met the moment she opened her eyes was an array of colorful prisms, all formed from cascading falls that fell into springs. There were two small ones, and the largest tipped off into a deep pooled creek. The vegetation surrounding it all was lush and green with vines winding up the stacked stones that gushed waters out of their cores.

Moss covered rocks dotted the edges of these springs, inviting a seat to stay and dip weary feet inside. Surrounding it all was late year flora, bright red and clustered in patches. The urge to lay herself down in these blossoms almost moved April, but not as much as Michelangelo's call to her from atop the falls.

"April, check this out!" As soon as her eyes were on him, Michelangelo jumped down the falls. The erosion crafted a natural slide of which he enjoyed all the way down toward the largest pool. The girth of his colliding splash even managed to make its way over toward her, and she jumped back in worry over wetting her art case. But her smile never left her face, especially as the kappa popped up a moment later with triumphant arms raised.

"Ha! You call that a jump? Watch this!" April had just enough time to notice Raphael had made his way to the top, and instead of using the slide he simply lunged off the edge and fell straight down into the pool with no concern for Michelangelo's position at all.

"Wait, wait, wait! AH!" Down the two went, and with the force of the collision, April wondered if they were both alright, even above the concern of the result of the displacing water wetting the edge of her dress.

Rushing over, April hopped along some of the edging rocks, trying to peer into the pool to see if the two were alright. The pool was deep, but clear and she saw the two approach before breaking surface.

"Landing on me was so not cool!" Michelangelo complained, giving his brother a dirty look for only a moment before he was all grins again. "But that jump was bonkers!"

Taking off her shoes, April dipped her feet into the cool springs the moment the brothers began splashing water at each other. She giggled along with them until she noticed Donatello lounging with his shell in the water nearby.

"You guys really love water, don't you?"

Donatello shifted, twisting from his backfloat to move closer toward April's position. He remained in the water there, looking up at her on propped elbows. "Of course. All of our kind does. Our villages, towns, and even our cities congregate around large bodies of water. It's our element, just like humans is land. Though, I wonder if your kind aren't so different from us. I've never seen a human move and even live on the oceans before. What was that like?"

April let out a breath. "It was a trip alright, but it wasn't too bad. I guess you could say my 'kind' have had years to perfect long distance travel. I definitely count myself lucky to live in the age of steam."

"I saw the components for one of those engines in the book you lent me. It's amazing how your people have constructed such contraptions." Donatello's eyes widened at the talk of these modern day inventions. His enthusiasm outweighed many of the Japanese peoples' own actually. "I'd give anything to see one, one day."

April bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't sure how that dream could ever become a reality, but she was glad he was sated with the encyclopedias she gave as well as the maps and engineer papers she managed to borrow as well. Out of all the brothers, Donatello seemed the most interested in the finite details.

"Your turn, Donnie!" There came Raphael, popping out of the water and wrapping large arms around his brother's neck, hauling him back until he was completely baptized. Michelangelo was in the back with his head thrown back in laughter while April's dry dress became quite wet.

"Ah! Raph! I wasn't even ready!" Donatello struggled out of his brother's arms, upset scrawling across his face even as Raphael snickered just behind him, wading in the water without a care. "Uh, I got water all up my nose. What would happen if I drowned, huh? Yeah, you'd think twice about doing that again!"

Even in Donatello's complaints, Raphael only rolled his eyes, circling him in the water. "Really, _Donnie_? A kappa drowning another kappa?" He snorted. "That'll be the day."

Ignoring the frustration it would be to walk home soaking wet, April sat fascinated by how easily the three swam about and even wrangled each other in the water. The old tales of Kappa explained how they usually drowned their victims. The brothers could certainly be underwater for a substantial amount of time, as well as reach one point of the pond and then another with untimely speed. They were creatures definitely built for the element, but April wondered to herself if they were also made for darker purposes.

"April!" Michelangelo's call snapped April back to attention. He waved at her from the center of the pool. "Come on in! The water's great this time of year!"

For a split second an eerily image of a kappa drowning a human victim flashed into her mind. But the reservation was shooed away and shamed. April could never see the brothers like that. She trusted them too long to begin to fear them and their capabilities now.

With a smile, April stood up. There was no use saving the rest of her dress, and if it was destined to remain wet the rest of the day then so be it. With an excited breath, April jumped into the spring.

. . .

"You must control your breathing. Move slowly, feel your blood flow down your arms and into your fingertips. Yes, just like that. Shift your feet a little more. There. Now hold until your mind clears . . ."

Ienari eased his breathing, his hands before him as he bent his knees and steadied his position. His closed eyes opened, looking away from the humanly constructed home, and from the walled structure just thin enough to see the outline of a figure whose movement he was mirroring. Instead his blue gaze loomed into the distance, into his mind open before him and everything that weighed on it.

"Don't let the troubles control you. Take charge and rein in all that unbalances you."

The words came through and Ienari listened, he had been listening for years. This human, and this isolated abode was a destination he and his brothers visited for over forty years. Other humans came there to learn from this man, to let their souls hear his words and their bodies understand his movements.

In secrecy Ienari and his brothers comprehended human technique. Keeping their distance they learned human offense, but even in such destructive movement came peace of mind and rejuvenation, of which Ienari attempted to capture after all that has been happening in his and brothers' lives lately. So caught up in this meditation that he didn't hear someone approach behind.

"Now feel the chi in your core and settle it." The human moved, his arms falling until level with his abdomen. Ienari mimicked until he noticed a shadow just behind him.

Turning, Ienari met the larger form of his brother Raijirou, or Raphael as he's accepted. His stance mirrored, but his upturned smirk was anything but meditating in manner.

"Thought I'd find you here," Raphael said. From the distance they were, there was no fear of the human taking notice of them. He hadn't for almost fifty years, and both doubted he would the longer the years ran.

With a sigh, Ienari accepted the distraction and released his form. "Where are the other two?"

"At the pools," Raphael answered. "With April."

After a short moment Ienari asked, "How is she?"

There was a sparkle in Raphael's eyes, his smile curling even more. "Concerned for a human? That's unlike you. I mean there's the rat over there but even I've never heard you worry over him."

Ienari sighed, feeling his frustration rise. And it wasn't over Raphael, or even Donatello and Michelangelo, but more so over himself for going against the normalcy of their kind. But then again, the four of them never grew up "normal." So why did he insist on holding them, especially himself to those absurd standards?

"At ease, my students. Keep your composure and steady your stance, if you do that then nothing in this world will shake you." Both Ienari and Raphael turned to watch the human outline move. His words, while distant, were ever clearer.

Raphael nodded. "That's some advice I can get behind." His eyes turned to his brother expectantly.

After another sigh, Ienari relented. Yet, in his submission he could find no coil in his gut, nor throb in his skull that warned him against going to the pools and being close to the human. There she was, sitting on a bordering rock. Her hair was pulled back like a wet dark blanket, droplets drizzled down her pale skin, even her clothing was soaked, but her hand moved quickly across a piece of paper. In the midst of her dripping state and advent scrawl, she was smiling, eyes bright, especially when she turned toward him.

There was a look of surprise. It flashed for a moment across the entirety of her face, but a second later it was controlled away. Ienari could see its remnants in her eyes, those bright irises so very unlike the eyes of the humans he and his brothers were used to.

With no rejection of his presence from the human, Ienari settled into the scene. Michelangelo and Donatello both commented their enthusiasm for his arrival, Michelangelo quickly attempting to get him into a wrestle in the water. Despite April there amongst them, it felt almost normal. Ienari and his brothers had visited these pools so often in the past that coming there was second nature. It was their spot, their territory. To share it with someone else never crossed his mind—far be it that it would be a human.

But Ienari relented his judgement in favor to observe. April's comments, even her activities didn't seem at all to bother the other three. Even Raphael seemed to grow used to her. And there Ienari sat wondering if this was going to last. If these visits, these meetups, and this odd companionship would stand the test of time.

Michelangelo was obviously the most bold out of them all. He was constantly at her side, pushing at her, teasing her as he would a dear friend, as he would one of their kind. Donatello was the second boldest in that he held manners when approaching the human, very mindful of any way he touched her. He was mostly content with staring however, for a lot longer than Michelangelo could keep any amount of attention on. Raphael remained more distant, not as distant as Ienari obviously, but enough in respect to their budding relationship. Though, Ienari knew that when the human wormed her way into his tough brother's heart as she had somehow managed to do so to the others then Raphael would have no need to maintain further wariness out of acquaintanceship.

It was strange days they were living in. Unbelievable but truly amazing days.

Michelangelo was next to April, crouched down, shoulder constantly bumping into hers despite her protests. He was watching her draw. Ienari could see her frustration whenever his youngest brother poked at her work, asking her a variety of questions. Ienari still didn't understand her language too well, but even the likes of Michelangelo seemed to have the basics of it down. He was smiling at their conversation and quipping comments. Eventually he began to giggle. When he looked toward Ienari and then back at the human's work, and then back at him again with his hand over his mouth, Ienari understood the meaning behind that rise of chuckles.

Their youngest brother's bout attracted Raphael's attention to the point he moved in close. Curious eyes looked at what made Michelangelo so flustered and after a moment, even Raphael snorted a chuckle. When Donatello joined the trio, Ienari decided to ignore the lot of them, entertaining himself and letting the time pass with a stick in hand, drawling in the mud near the edge of the second pool. He was writing his brothers' names, the ones the human had given, in kanji, at least he was trying to. In the concentration of it all he hadn't noticed April move closer under her bare feet were standing near his writing.

Looking up, he watched as she offered him the paper in her hands. He didn't take it at first, looking toward his brothers quizzically before looking back and eyeing her and the gift she presented him. When he took it April's smile curled more and she said—

"Now I have the whole set."

As soon as his eyes roamed over the work, Ienari noticed the eyes looking back at him were very familiar. It was him. April had sketched him. Near the bottom was a poorly scribbled kanji of his name, but next to it was another form of writing.

"What is this?" He asked her, but it was Michelangelo who answered.

"It's your April name! It means she likes you."

Eyes turned back to the portrait. It was fascinating. April was very talented. No one's ever drawn him before and so often it was easy to forget what one looked like, but that was him. Wow.

"Leonardo." Ienari looked back up at April when she spoke. Her smile was kind, and the sparkle in her eyes made her countenance even more pleasant. "Out of them all, he's my favorite."

Even with her rough Japanese, Ienari was touched by her comments. A smile might have formed when he nodded and said, "Arigato."

It was like a phantom weight had lifted from Ienari's shoulders. Suddenly, the worries of these unusual circumstances vanished from his mind, and the reason to look for something to pass away the time around the human fluttered away. She was there, his brothers were there, he was there, and he was Leonardo.

The rest of the sunlit day was spent splashing at each other, drying off in the sun, and enjoying April's human cuisine, all of which Leonardo took part in.

"You know, April, these are good and everything, but do you think you could bring those pizza things again? Those . . . those were the absolute best," Michelangelo said with a mouthful of cream from the stuffed biscuits she brought.

"Alright, I will add that note to the other items I'll have to bring for you guys," she said as she jotted the reminder down on a smaller piece of paper and then stuffed it into one of her pockets. "Now that you've all helped yourselves, I've got to get going."

Michelangelo was the very first to complain with a drawn out moan. Habitual.

"It's getting late. My uncle doesn't like me being out after dark," April reasoned.

"Yeah, even our city has a curfew," Raphael commented.

April sighed. "You all talk about and describe the places you've been and where you live and it all sounds just out of this world, but now that I know you four I know it's right here after all . . . and I can't see it." She looked disappointed, but accepting. "These meetings are enough. Really. You're the only good friends I have and I hope we can see each other for as long as I'm here."

"How long will that be?" Donatello questioned, an edge in his tone that might be worry.

April simply rolled her shoulders. "I don't know, but I think it'll be for a while. So I look forward to see you all again soon." She pointed toward Michelangelo. "And I'll get those pizzaioloes of yours too."

In their parting they all walked back to the forest's edge with her. By the time they made it the sun was within moments of setting. April let out a huff at their poor timing, but she shrugged again and turned to look at them with a ready smile. "It's okay," she said. "I don't regret having all that fun with you four."

Moving away with her belongings she waved them off and there they stood watching as she moved into the streets and began following their pathways.

"You think her uncle's going to be mad?" Michelangelo questioned.

"From what I hear; he's quite kind and understanding," Donatello mentioned.

Raphael let out a huff of his own. "I just hope no creep pounces her before she gets back to her place."

"How far away does she live?" Leonardo looked to his brothers, the ones who've known her long enough that he expected would know and be able to tell him, but they looked at him with blank stares, and when the shrugs came he felt a strange sensation in his chest.

It was getting dark. They needed to get back home themselves.

"Alright, let's head home." Leonardo turned and nodded for them to do the same.

"Awww." Michelangelo looked back at the human city once more before slumping his shoulders and falling in line. "And here I was thinking you'd let us go see where April lived."

"Just get going," Leonardo said. "You know how long it takes to get back. We'll be lucky if we make it before torch lighting."

All three of his brothers reluctantly marched away. Leonardo would have followed them hadn't that sensation in his chest spurred him into dangerous territory where he hid himself quietly, stalking until he saw the path April took until she walked into the threshold of a quaint abode. He could see lit lamps in the windows and the faint muffles inside let the kappa know she was being greeted by that uncle of hers.

With safety verified, Leonardo moved away, sticking to the shadows until he was safe back in the forest, rushing after his brothers. By the time he caught up with them and accepted their questioning gazes that sensation in his chest was gone. And it never returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I know, but at least Leo's coming around. We all knew he would. ;)


	5. Fish Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love and reviews. Please, keep them coming so that I can stay motivated and faithful to these fics! Haha

Because of her uncle’s job, April’s met many a character. Her uncle August O’Neil has hosted various delegates over for brunch of all backgrounds. His close companionship with fellow New York native consulate Robert B. Van Valkenburgh had landed him the job as delegate assistant, so he was often seen along with the many other national representatives in relation to Great Britain, France, and even Russia.

On a few occasions April was able to meet the Japanese officials who her uncle delegated with, but those meetings were few and short. Today, however, she was to meet another American.

“April, there you are.”

April turned to the voice of her uncle as she made a pass for the front door. Augustus was in the entertainment room surrounded by trays of native cuisine. He sat on the couch, and in his hand was a small porcelain cup, probably full of sake. That cup was identical to the one in the hands of a blond man seated beside him.

As April came closer, her uncle stood and set his cup down on one of the trays. His guest stood in respect as well for her presence.

“April, this is Eric Sacks. He just arrived the other day all the way from New York. This is my niece April.” Augustus motioned her toward the man who offered his hand in goodwill. His smile was pleasant enough.

“In the short time I’ve been here I feel like your uncle’s told me enough about you for me to know you very well,” Eric Sacks said as their handshake ended. “You’re a beautiful young woman, April. I was expecting you to favor your uncle a little more though.” He nodded toward him. “Maybe even share in those fiery locks of his.”

April blushed as she ran a hand down the length of her hair. “Oh, I dye it.”

Eric rose a curious brow as he looked toward Augustus who said, “She’s not well received here, and her red hair makes her an easy target for less than polite manners; so she dyes it.”

“I see. Well, that’s a shame.” His blues eyes roamed down to the case in her hands. “I’ve heard you paint. May I have the honor to view some pieces?”

April really didn’t want to show anyone, especially the pieces she had in her case right then, but her uncle motioned her and she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his guest so she reluctantly opened her art case and sifted through her papers to see which ones were safe to hand over. The length it took to do so seemed to rise a chuckle out of the New Yorker.

“There’s no need to give me the best,” Eric said. “Any level of yours is a notch above my own.” He held out his hand and motioned for her to hand over the picture she had in her hand. It was Donatello’s portrait.

With a quick glance toward her uncle, his silent urging was enough for April to relinquish the painting over.

“She’s very talented,” Augustus praised. “For as long as she’s been drawing, I’ll tell you that she can sketch the very wings of a flying bumblebee.”

Eric Sacks’ brows rose higher. “This right here isn’t a bumblebee.” He smiled up at her. “Very detailed though, I’m impressed.”

“Here are some landscapes,” April said, trying to draw his attention away from what— _who_ —he was looking at.

Eric Sacks showed interest in the other drawings, but his eyes continued to glance back to the first painting. It made April’s gut twist, and the habit to bite the inside of her cheek was too great to fight off. Finally, those judging eyes looked at her.

“You’re very skilled, enough for your pieces to be shown in a gallery might I add. But this, I’m trying to wrap my head around what this is. A M. Shelley fan, perhaps?”

April held back her sigh of contempt. Like any of the brothers could come close to looking like Mary Shelley’s description of Frankenstein’s monster. “It’s a kappa,” she said. “The Japanese believe they dwell in the wetlands and drown people.”

“Yes, April’s got this painting of all these different types of Japanese creatures and she’s put her own look to them. She’s got a wild imagination,” Augustus spoke up, holding his nodding grin.

Eric Sacks nodded along with him. “You’re right about that.” With a kind smile he handed the pictures back to their maker who quickly snapped them away out of eyesight.

“What brings you to Japan, Mr. Sacks?” April asked.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t my first trip to the land of the rising sun. My father sailed with Commodore Perry. He was stationed here long enough for my mother and me to come live here for a time. Impressionable years, a time I’ll never forgot even after returning to the States. Now I’m here on business. I decided it was time to expand my trading perimeters and I know Japan right now is looking for as many traders as it can to catch up with the rest of the world. I’m here to help them as much as they will help me.”

“What will you be trading with the people of Japan?” Despite his story, April suspected an undertone. Many traders had them, and she’s met a few. Mr. Eric Sacks would likely be no different.

Even with April’s straightforward questions, Eric Sacks smiled and answered politely. “Medicine, machinery such as steam and motor engines. The essentials to bring the Japanese into the Nineteenth Century.”

“Arms as well?” April’s blue eyes pierced the stunned silence. “I used to walk past your factories on my way to school back in New York City and I distinctly remember you manufactured firearms. Do you plan to give the people those ‘essentials’ as well even fresh off their Boshin War?”

Eric snickered and gave a look toward Augustus who looked on in his own apologetic way. “I didn’t know you stored the press here as well.” He turned toward April and stood humbly. “I assure you, Miss O’Neil that that is the last thing I plan to do. You are right, I manufacture weaponry, but that’s strictly for the western frontier. My goal is as it always has been; to aid settlers and modernize humanity. You are more than welcome to accompany my associates in their dealings. But starting another Boshin War after your uncle was in the thick of it? That’s the farthest thing from my conscience.”

His demeanor and his words shifted April’s heart, and she leaned toward him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sacks, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ve just . . . experienced their prejudices.” Subconsciously her hand came up to play with the tip of her brown hair. The action was enough to be understood where her detail was missed.

“And that is why I am here,” Eric spoke up again. He came close enough to offer April a comforting pat. “This age of stubborn isolationism will end, and eventually their prejudices and all the distrust in their hearts will fade away with the gifts we bring through trade.” He leaned over to tap her case. “And art. My comment before remains; I hope you consider posting a gallery. I think even the Japanese would be interested in seeing your work.”

April blushed. She was used to relative admiration, but from a man in Mr. Sacks’ shoes, it was different. And it felt nice. “Do you really think so? I’ve never really hosted a gallery before.”

“Then how about I host it?” He asked, giving Augustus an approving nod. “I’m staying over at a resort in the Tsukiji district, near the Sumida River. It’s big enough and close enough to plenty of poor souls that can do with your vibrant colors in their lives. How does the end of October sound? Do you think you can whip up enough pieces for it?”

April stood speechless. Mouth agape and body swaying, shifting from one foot to the other. She looked at her uncle who silently encouraged her as he had been doing. She turned back at Mr. Sacks with a forming smile. “I don’t know what to say.”

Eric nodded. “Just say you’ll be there, you and your wonderful artwork.”

April’s smile widened. “Yes. I mean, I will. Yes. Thank you so very much!”

Eric Sacks’ visit to the O’Neil household took up April’s time more than she intended, but as noon slipped past and an offer for her and uncle to dine with the man, April certainly hadn’t any recollection that she had anywhere else to be that day.

. . .

“So let me get this straight . . . you want to give April—a human—a gift that is traditionally exchanged between two families as a sign of peace and unity in kappan culture?” Raphael eyed Leonardo with the same look the other two brothers were giving him.

Leonardo took the odd stares on with a nod of his head. “It’s also a symbol of good luck,” he added. “We’ve known her for some time now, and currently she’s the only one ever giving us anything. I think it’s only fair we give her something in return.”

The silence he met might have made him uncomfortable, and if Leonardo let it show it was only for a split second, especially when Michelangelo stood up and said, “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Leonardo made a face. “Very funny, _Mikey_. None of you have to do it, but I want to.”

“I want to too!” Michelangelo exclaimed, raising his hand in the air with a bounce.

Donatello moved in closer now that he realized they were all contemplating doing this. “Where are we going to be getting the fish? I know a few spots where nigoro-buna gather.”

Raphael let out a laugh. “Nigoro-buna? Really, Donnie? That ain’t no fish for April.”

The comment silenced Donatello. His face heated from embarrassment over the fact that Raphael was right. A small fish like nigoro-buna? For April? What was he thinking?

“Sorry, boys, this isn’t going to be a team event.” Leonardo’s smile sharpened. There was a familiar gleam in his blue eyes. “You gotta get your own fish.”

Raphael mirrored Leonardo’s expression. His eyes darkening. “Oh, so it’s a race then?”

“Never said that,” Leonardo said, yet he was the first to back away and turn and dart out of their hut. Raphael wasn’t far behind him.

“Hey! Wait! No one even said one, two, three! Aw, man!” Michelangelo grumbled but stumbled out of the front door.

As the last remaining, Donatello took the time to compose himself and to consider which fish would be in season, which fish wouldn’t be laughed at by his brothers, and more importantly, which fish would be the best for April—nutrition-wise. In the end he decided on salmon. It was a sizable, tasty, and healthy fish. And he knew exactly where to find them.

No certain timeframe had been announced, which was fine by Donatello because he had to cross a distance before he reached the necks of streams before they poured into the rivers. It was there he cornered the squadron of fish as they attempted to leave the large expanse of the river and trail further inland. All he needed was one, but as he moved to take one the entirety of the school fluttered around him. In their craze they breached the water’s surface, and that was where Donatello followed them.

The fish squirmed and flopped. As soon as Donatello got ahold of one it wiggled out of his grasp and back into the water, swimming away as fast as it could. With so many bouncing around it was hard to focus on any certain one. But before his frustration peaked, Donatello sprung upon one of the beached fish.

“Gotcha!” Pulling the fish close, and ignoring the others smacking around him, he clasp the wiggling thing between his teeth and moved to push back against the shore. At least he would have hadn’t a huffing snort turned his attention.

There, before him, was a bear. She looked at him with scrutinizing eyes, and when she huffed again Donatello realized he intruded on her feeding ground.

Reluctantly he relented the fish in his mouth and moved away. In his consideration the bear showed none as she took his hard-caught fish and devoured it before him. He sighed, wading at the water’s edge. He’d just have to try again.

By the time Donatello managed to secure a catch it was dark. Having taken him all day, he salted the fish and stuffed it into a basket which he secured within the blankets of his nest. Come morning light he forsook his brothers and their status and race toward the pools, hoping to be the first. He wasn’t.

There was Michelangelo, sitting on one of the edge rocks, feet swishing in the pool while he munched on a fish in his hands. He paused mid bite when he noticed Donatello’s approach.

“What took you so long? And where are the others?” Michelangelo asked.

Donatello looked around. It really was just the two of them. For now. “Your guess is as good as mine. How long have you been here?”

Michelangelo shrugged. “Since yesterday. I thought April would be here, she wasn’t. So I just camped out. Maybe she’ll show up today.” Even with a hopeful smile, the younger kappa leaned down to munch on his meal further.

“You’ve been here all night?” Donatello asked. Though, to be fair, he hadn’t been focused on his brothers last evening when he returned home. So it was highly likely he was the only one there when he slept. “And, wait, is that the fish you caught for April?”

Michelangelo paused and looked down at the half munched piece in his hand. He glanced away guiltily. “I was hungry, alright!”

“Any louder and the city might here you, Mikey.” Both kappa turned to see a familiar human push herself through the bushes with a large role of paper under her arm, the usual art case in hand, and a happy smile on her face.

“April!” Michelangelo was the first to her, holding out his gift. “I got you something.” Even before April had the chance to comprehend what it was, the younger kappa took her hand and slapped the scaly thing into her palm.

“It’s a . . .” She had to turn it over multiple times before she realized what it was—what it had been. “Fish . . .” She looked at Michelangelo quizzically. “Is this your breakfast?”

“No,” Michelangelo shook his head. “It’s for you, but, uh, I might have gotten a little bit hungry before you came. Hope you don’t mind. I just nibbled off the fins . . . and the eyes . . . and the gills . . . and the innards . . .”

April’s quiet expression as she looked down at Michelangelo’s gift in her hand wasn’t easy to read, so Donatello didn’t. Instead he took the opportunity to present his own.

“I brought you something too, April.” Blue eyes turned as Donatello approached, holding out a small basket.

She took a breath and then looked back toward Michelangelo. “I’m just going to put this down for a moment.”

After she put down the once-fish, she freed her hands to take up Donatello’s gift. When she opened it she had that same quiet expression, this time Donatello tried reading it, however he couldn’t decide if it was a good look or a bad one, if she liked his present or didn’t.

“It’s another fish.” Confused eyes looked toward Donatello. “Did you guys bring me these because I share my foods with you?”

“Food?” Donatello shook his head. “I mean, yes, we eat fish. Who doesn’t? But, this isn’t necessarily just food, it’s a gift from one kappa to . . . well it’s supposed to be one kappa to another, but it’ll just have to be kappa to human. It symbolizes peace between us. Friendship. And it’s for good luck.”

After the understanding sunk in, April’s confusion fleeted in favor of beaming endearment. Her smile remained even as she picked up Michelangelo’s gift again. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, you two.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Michelangelo nodded before leaning back in. “Not that you have to, but do you think I could munch on the tail?”

April sighed and offered the entirety of his gift. “I give you permission to finish it off if you want to.”

There wasn’t further hesitation and Michelangelo quickly finished what he started, giving April a moment to herself to wipe the oily residue on the side of her dress. Even still, she kept Donatello’s gift close, even saying, “I’m glad you salted it, Donnie. I’m not sure what I’d do if it smelled as bad as Mikey’s fish.” She chuckled at that, looking quite glad that the younger kappa had downed the rest of it.

“It’s salmon.” April blinked back at Donatello. “The fish. I caught it because of its nutritional value.”

“Oh.” April glanced back down at it and nodded. “Thanks for that.”

“You like fish, right?” Donatello realized how little he knew about April, even after these few months. “I never thought to ask, and—”

“Oh, yes, I like fish.” She nodded in an assuring motion. “Salmon’s one of my favorites too.”

Donatello beamed. “It is?”

“But has she tried stripped iwana?”

Heads and eyes turn to see Leonardo maneuvering toward the pools. He hopped down from the lip of the falls and landed in the soft moss. In his hand he presented a decently sized, vibrantly colored iwana.

“You got an iwana?” Michelangelo was the first to slide beside his brother, looking at his catch. His eyes sparkled with amazement, and likely leftover hunger. “You’d have to go up into the mountains to get those.”

Leonardo shrugged. “I managed,” was all he said, and that was enough to tick Donatello and his forgotten salted salmon off.

Firstly, it was Leonardo’s idea to give April a fish; an endearing custom in their culture. Secondly, it was also his idea to turn it into some warped competition by setting individual goals. Thirdly, he goes off and gets one of the finest fishes, and one pleasing to the eye, no doubt in hopes that April would like his catch the best. It just didn’t seem fair to Donatello, especially when Leonardo overachieved at any game they set in motion, and he . . . well, he was always the one struggling just to keep up.

“Another fish.” April pulled out a smile anyway and took Leonardo’s gift. “You all are too sweet, really.”

“It’s good enough to paint?” Leonardo questioned, pointing to his fish. April’s eyes followed and she understood.

With a nod, April sat the presents down and unrolled her large paper sheet. She cut a small piece off and began sketching Leonardo’s and Donatello’s fish side by side. Michelangelo must have felt left out because he offered the last remaining piece of his gift, which was just the tail. But April smiled and donned its image in her work regardless.

When she moved to pulled out her colors she paused. Looking around she then turned confused eyes back toward the brothers. “There’s only three. Where’s Raphael?”

It was like the three just noticed this as well, and expectant eyes turned toward the eldest. Leonardo rose his hands. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t put him anywhere.”

Michelangelo narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “I dunno, you two do some pretty mean things to each other during competitions.”

“And this isn’t a competition,” Leonardo clarified. “It’s tradition.”

“Tradition?” Donatello piped up. “Then what’s the deal with ‘tradition’ going up into the mountains to get iwana? You’re always doing this, Leo; making everything a competition.”

“And you’re always complaining,” Leonardo shot back with an annoyed glare and descending frown. “It’s not like you’re always getting last place like Mikey. Kami, it annoys the shell off my back.”

Donatello had more choice words to say but he never found the opportunity again when Raphael’s loud whooping signaled his arrival. As soon as he slapped his catch down, all eyes widened at the size of it.

“Tuna?” Donatello looked at his older brother. “You went out to _sea_?”

“Broooo . . .” Michelangelo’s mouth wouldn’t shut. And his eyes looked to Raphael as if he were a god. “What was it like in the deep blue?”

“Dark,” Raphael answered with a roll of his shoulders. “But not dark enough to find this baby.” He looked at April then with an accomplished smile. “What do you think, April?”

April’s expression mirrored the rest. Shock.

“Next time I want to go into the ocean!” Michelangelo exclaimed his hopes.

“No,” Leonardo said firmly, then turned his disapproving eyes toward Raphael. “The ocean is off limits.”

Raphael tilted his head. “Hm? Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t remember you making that rule up before we all left. It was fair game.”

“It wasn’t a game.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that. I know you, Leo, we all do. And we all know you make that face when you lose.”

“I like them all!” Thank goodness for April. She turned the brothers’ attention back to her. Teeth bared and eyes strained, it was obvious she was trying not to let frustration overwhelm her. “Thank you. Raphael. Leonardo. Michelangelo. Donatello. Thank you. I love the fish.” She then motioned to Raphael. “I’m drawing them all. Bring it over here.”

Raphael snorted at Leonardo as he pushed past him, dragging his gift behind. The fish laid there until April had finished Raphael’s additional piece and painted colors on the piece. With a relieved smile she showed the four of them. It was enough of a distraction for the tensions to die down.

The issue had reminded April of her family back in New York City and how they used to squabble over meaningless things. It also made her wonder just how old the four were, even in Kappa years. They acted young, but she was glad they were comfortable enough around her to let her witness these familial differences. It was interesting to see, especially after discerning they and humans weren’t so different at all in this aspect.

The last thing that came to April’s mind over these unexpected gifts was how she was supposed to take them home—especially that tuna. There was no way she was going to deny Raphael’s gift when she had Donatello and Leonardo’s fish in her arms.

Okay, so she just had to find a cart.

April was subconsciously apprehensive when going back out into the city, for good reason. Even after how long she’s been in Japan, she still didn’t like the feeling of the glares. Striking up small talk was one of the biggest challenges she faced, even after a greater understanding of the Japanese language, many of the people acted as if they couldn’t understand her. It frustrated her to no end.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” April said in relative good Japanese. “I will buy your cart for good money.” The cart wasn’t even in good condition, but it was the only one April could find owned by a less than snarky man. He looked at her quietly, as if examining her first before actually listening to her. “Sir,” she said, holding out her purse. “I will give you this if you give me that.” She pointed to the cart and after a hefty shake with a rustle of the contents inside, the man nodded and took her offer. Now it was up to her to wheel the thing back to the city’s edge.

The cart was old and obviously in need of repair. It grinded the entire way back with one wobbling wheel that drove April crazy, especially when it got stuck in the road. She moaned when she moved toward it, trying to see if she could remedy it.

“What now?” April wasn’t gifted in any sort of mechanical skill, but she knew enough to temporarily fix. At least she thought she did. With a sigh, April sat down and leaned against the small cart. Looking up the road she realized just how far she had to go and knew, just knew, that it would take her all day to track back to the pools where her horde was waiting.

When a shadow engulfed her and didn’t fade away, April looked up to see a familiar face.

“What business do you have with carts, westerner?” Despite the derogatory name, Karai smiled down at April and even offered her a hand.

“Thanks.” Brushing her hair out of her face, April realized how the sun revealed some redder tints. It might be time to dye again. “I’ve got some things to pick up.”

“With that?” Karai gave the poor-looking cart a skeptical look, but April could only shrug.

“It was all I could get.”

Luckily, Karai didn’t press further. April was glad someone understood her. She was also grateful for the help she showed in taking up one handle while motioning for her to take the other.

“Together,” she said, and the both of them pulled the rickety cart up the road.

There was worry over leading Karai down the path she took to meet the brothers. But she had no choice if she was ever going to hope to haul the boys’ gifts back home. It just wouldn’t sit well with her to leave the fish behind, though bringing Karai to the pools already didn’t sit well, but April believed in the brothers’ ability to know when she was approaching along with a guest.

“There they are!” April said, louder than usual as she moved over toward the fish and began packing the cart with the ones she could before looking toward Karai with pleading eyes to move the tuna. “Care to help me for a second?”

Karai was looking around as if something was watching or, or something would suddenly pop out of the bushes and attack. April’s never seen the girl so on edge. It wasn’t like the pools was a shady-looking place. And so the worry in her gut continued to eat away at her insides.

Relief came when the Japanese woman came and offered her strength to move the tuna. But those eyes of hers still studied their surroundings. “Who exactly do you meet out here?” She groaned when they struggled to move the large fish, but when it was plopped down onto the cart with the others she looked at April expectantly.

April smiled sheepishly and pat the tuna. “Fishermen . . . children. We play out here, and they said it was tradition to give their friends fish for good luck so they gave me these.” She moved around to take up the cart’s handle again. “No consideration for how I was supposed to get it all home, though.” She nodded toward Karai who still had her eyes around. “You’ve helped me this far, care to help me wheel this catch back?”

There was something Karai was looking at, and it spurred her closer to one of the pools. Perhaps she would have seen what she thought she saw hadn’t April called out to her again. There was reluctance in the way she moved, but she came back and helped April lift the cart and pull it along.

“Tradition you say?” Conversation struck up in their exit. “Just what do you plan to do with it all? If it’s not salted or dried, it’ll go bad very fast.”

“I’ll just have to have it for dinner. You’re invited if you’d like to join me and my uncle.”

“You would invite me?” There was a short pause before she continued. “I am honored.”

“So am I.”

When the sound of their voices carried away their presence, four heads popped out of the pool scanning eyes had been on just moments before.

“April brought another human here,” Michelangelo said with a hint of worry.

“She was friendly toward her,” Donatello added as he moved toward the edge, his eyes following their trail despite the two being long gone. He turned back to look at his brothers. “April wouldn’t do something like that if she didn’t have to.”

“And she had to because she couldn’t carry the fish back,” Leonardo said with an accusing eye looking at Raphael who was wading beside him.

In response to the accusation, Raphael splashed at his brother. Leonardo splashed back until they fell into a wrestle with their two younger brothers watching on with groaning sighs.

“Hey, Donnie.”

Donatello moved his eyes away from his brothers’ splashing and looked toward Michelangelo who was gazing off back in the direction April and the other human had left. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Michelangelo said with a shrug. “Do you remember all those stories about the tengu, and the kitsune, and the oni, and the humans? You know, the really scary ones that used to keep me up at night?”

Donatello snickered and dipped his hand down to fling a splash of water at his brother. “You mean the ones that _still_ keep you up?”

Michelangelo flinched back but there was a look in his eyes that spilled worry within Donatello’s gut. “I’m serious.” He looked back toward where April and the other human had once been. “It’s why we were all so scared of April when we met her, but after we actually _met_ her we realized she didn’t have that dangerous spirit about her.” He sighed. There was no smile on his face this time. “She looked right at us. If the falls weren’t rippling the waters I think the human might have actually seen us.”

Donatello shrugged. “If she had then she’d react like the others humans who’ve already seen us.” With screaming and running legs.

Michelangelo looked down. “Maybe, but she had a dangerous spirit, Donnie. I could feel it.”

The worry in Donatello’s gut didn’t dissipate, it remained and pestered him into restlessness. For the first time since beginning their rendezvous outings with April he worried for his brothers’ safety. April had been so different from the humans they were taught about, and the relief of it all made him full of life and excitement every time he and his brothers met the westerner, and there was hope that the other humans were similar to her. But with Michelangelo’s unusual wariness, Donatello wondered just how relevant those old stories and histories were even to this day.


	6. Gallery

Donatello blinked in confusion. There April sat in her pale underdress, she was soaked from previous play in the pools. The day's rays that passed through the colored leaves above was the only agent drying away the droplets dipping down her white skin. All of this wasn't an uncommon sight, what was was the red hair tinting in those bright rays.

Moving closer, Donatello had an urge to examine the strands, if April would let him of course. "April, your hair. It's like fire."

April was wringing out the length of it all, and as she did she glanced behind her to see Donatello seated conservatively on his knees. "Oh, sorry about that." She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "The dye never lasts long."

Donatello blinked again. "Dye?" He watched April pull out a jar she had kept in the pocket of her dress. It was full of dark liquid, and the moment she opened it a foul scent wafted into the air.

She shrugged, "The smell is terrible, but it does the job." She twisted and bid him closer. "Do you think you could help a girl out?"

"O-Oh, sure." Even though he didn't like the scent of the liquid in the bottle he was given, nor the fact that it conceals the westerner's true hair color, Donatello was happy to be of assistance. Anything for April. Besides, it even gave him a chance to examine her hair closer.

Running his fingers through the locks was something else entirely. He's had her hair brush against him before through passing contact, but actually getting to hold it against his palms was a different experience. It was soft, almost similar to silk, and with the fading dye chemicals there was a natural scent that was quite pleasing to his nostrils.

Donatello noticed immediately when April flinched. She reached back and set her hand on his. "Sorry, I hadn't had a chance to brush the tangles out today. Go easy."

"Sorry," Donatello muttered and carried on, lathering her hair in the liquid, watching it cover the red away remorsefully. "Why must you do it? Dye, I mean. Why do you have to dye your hair?"

April sat there while Donatello rubbed her hair dark again. "Because I'm not from around here, and my hair makes it quite obvious."

"In the west are there are others with hair like this?"

April smiled and rolled her shoulders. "Sort of. There's a lot of hair colors out west."

Donatello was smiling as he imagined the possibility of so many different hued heads. Though, he believes he's already found his favorite color.

"It's strange though," Donatello said as he wound up April's hair so the dye would set away from the rest of her skin and clothes. "The humans are one clan, for there to be differences and infighting, it's just something we're ever taught."

April sighed, rubbing at her itching scalp. "There's a lot to the human race, or clan as you call it, that you don't know about."

"But I'd like to know."

April fully turned around and stared up into Donatello's curious eyes. He offered her a smile even though her thoughts about the notion were negative. His and his brothers' naivety about the world was something that April cherished and wanted to remain a part of them. So she held her tongue about the matter. Instead she reached up and patted his cheek.

"I admire your open curiosity. Maybe if we humans were a lot more like you and your bothers this world would be a better place. Don't lose that."

Donatello rubbed where she had touched him because it left a strange tingle behind. He wondered if she had touched the dye and that perhaps the chemicals were reacting strangely with his skin, but as he watched her later, especially as she began painting, he noticed how—oddly enough—her hands were the cleanest part of her body. So it wasn't the dye then . . .

"You've been painting a lot lately." Michelangelo came and sat himself down beside April, watching intently as she moved her brushes along larger pieces. It was of an old temple. "Especially the big pieces. What are you doing with them all?"

April's smile showed excitement. "I'm putting them in a gallery."

"Really?" Michelangelo's eyes sparkled with similar excitement whilst his brothers leaned in closer for an explanation. "I'm glad you got one, whatever it is. Is it like a bigger case to hold your bigger pictures?"

April laughed, but nodded nonetheless. "Yes, it's similar in that aspect, but a gallery is where artists frame their pieces and hang them on walls for others to view."

"That's a little odd, isn't it?" Raphael spoke up. "Why not just paint the walls then?"

April turned to the larger brother. "Well, maybe someone who sees the art wants to buy it. How would they take that art from the wall?" Raphael was confounded, but April continued. "It's why we hang them, so that everyone can see it and maybe take one home if they like it so much."

"Oooh, I get it," Michelangelo said with a nod. "I want to see your gallery!"

April bit her lip at the stated desire. She was about to be the bearer of bad news when Leonardo stepped in to save her from that position. "You can't, Mikey. Those are for humans."

Michelangelo's excitement deflated. "Awww, that's no fair." He looked to April then. "You gotta do one for kappa then. Please, pretty please! Say you will!"

"She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to," Leonardo said. "Besides, I don't think the others would appreciate human artwork."

"Yeah? Well they don't know what they're missing," Michelangelo said with a nod as he sat back with his arms crossed. "You gonna show everyone the pictures you painted of us? Huh, huh?"

April was quiet at those questions. It was something she had been debating herself over. She hadn't wanted Eric Sacks to see it in the first place, but even after he saw it he didn't seem worried over it. So maybe she would. She glanced over toward Leonardo whom she knew was very disapproving in any form of sharing their relations. He still kept skeptical eyes behind her every time she arrived to meet them, as if he expected her to bring others like she had that one day.

"I don't know," she said. Raising her hand to her hair, she realized it was finally dry.

"You've at least gotta tell us what it is like," Donatello said from where he sat.

April's smile retuned as she nodded. "I will."

When they departed and the brothers trekked back to their city and home, Michelangelo dug himself into his nest sheets and then began gathering his painted rocks. "I'll bet I could make a gallery, with just these rocks."

"Yeah, you do that," Raphael said whilst he sat at the edge of his own nest looking over large maps April called an atlas. Ever since he had borrowed it from Donatello's nest he couldn't keep his eyes off of it. "We're really so small, huh?"

Leonardo turned toward him. He watched his brother run his fingers over the small drawing of what Japan was. It really was minuscule in comparison to the other land masses.

"What do you think the other places are like?" Raphael's eyes were wandering toward the mass of Asia and then toward somewhere called the Caucuses. "Is this all just human territory, or do you think there are other clans out there . . . like us."

"We may never know," Leonardo said while Donatello poked his head into a mechanical book. At Leonardo's response, all brothers looked to him. "We're kappa, we're not meant to go anywhere."

Obviously, the response wasn't to Raphael's liking. He frowned. "But the humans are? That don't seem fair to me."

"Raphael's right, Leo," Donatello spoke up. He came forward and showed them the components of a steam engine within the book he'd been looking at and then pulled out his own schematics for one. "I've been reverse engineering a few of these models." Reaching into is pack he pulled out a small blocky thing. "Like this. If I just put hot water in it it'll move, and if I put structure underneath it then it'll float and if it'll float then it'll be like those western steam ships. What if I make one? What if we could travel and see the world just like the westerners do?"

Raphael and Michelangelo gazed on in interest. Their quiet enthusiasm always convinced Donatello as to their answers, but it was getting their eldest brother to agree and allow this endeavor which they all waited on. Even in his reluctance, they knew they've seen him interested in a world outside of the borders of their own. It's why even he's traveled to the edge of Kappan territory, to the Oni hills, and the Tengu mountains, and the Kitsune plains, and even to the human shores. So why not wander further outside even of all Japan?

"Say you built this," blue eyes met Donatello's browns. "What if there's just humans out there in all of that. What'll you think they'll do to us?" He was shaking his head, shaking away their hope. "No, put it away, Donnie. It's nice to dream about, but that's all it can be."

Donatello sighed and conceded. He pushed the makeshift engine back into his pack and sunk back toward his room where he buried his head back into the encyclopedias. Michelangelo once more turned his attention to his color coated rocks, but Raphael refused to return to just dreaming. Instead he slapped the atlas down and stormed out of their hut. Leonardo didn't go after him, none of them did, because they knew he'd be back. This wasn't the first time where his hopes had been shattered, and it likely wouldn't be the last.

. . .

It had taken her all night to frame and hang the selected artwork, even with the help of Sacks' staff. The man had rented out a riverside manor, three stories, with a courtyard bigger than April's own Japanese lodging, the garden it possessed boasted the finest shades of autumn and paths of winding rocks. It was an absolutely stunning estate, and with the docks just behind, it made travel to and fro much easier.

Her and her uncle had arrived the previous afternoon where they were offered spacious rooms and delicious refreshments. After a quick rest, April set to work in the base level where a large gathering room was cleared of décor and furniture to allow the art to be displayed. Deciding on which pieces to show in the viewing was one of the hardest parts of that evening. April had so many works that she found it difficult to pick favorites. She had to in the end, and by noon of the next day the first wave of the guests began arriving.

"April, are you still working on that piece?" April's uncle poked his head into her room to see his niece seated on the floor, legs crossed and paper in lap whilst she dabbed shades over the expanse of it. She looked up with wide startled eyes and gave him a short noise in question.

Augustus O'Neil laughed as he came in. "You know it's noon already."

April's eyes widened. "It is?!"

Augustus had never seen her get up so fast. But there she was, slapping her papers and paints onto the bed and then rushing over toward a vanity and trying as she might to fix her hair up into a polite style. A humorous gleam sparkled in his eyes when he noticed her realize the extra hue she collected on her face.

"Look at you." He said, coming up and taking her hand to turn her toward him. There were swatches of paint dotting her cheek and chin, as well as the underside of her sleeves. He let out another laugh. "No matter how old you get, you'll always be my little April. Why, if you didn't have some color splotched somewhere I wouldn't know who you were."

April gave him her typical wrinkle-nosed look but accepted his help to wipe away the smears on her skin and dab away what they could off her sleeves. Her gown, a blue floral dress, was just dark enough to hide away the evidence of her actions. Another article that would join her color-splattered wardrobe.

"Nervous?"

April nodded. "Can you tell?" She pinched her cheeks to bid the rosiness cover her pale complexion.

"The guests are just arriving."

April stiffened. "They are?" She turned again toward the mirror and worked at her hair and skin despite looking as good as she could. Augustus only shook his head and nudged her. When she turned back to him he offered her his arm.

"What say we go and greet them?"

There was a nervous hesitation. It was expected. After another breath, April nodded and slid her arm into his. They left the room and walked downstairs to do just that.

. . .

Donatello had stayed up late. The leftover tension from the previous disagreement and disappointment hadn't sat well with him. With a sunken heart and nagging worry over Raphael's whereabouts, sleep evaded him. So he passed the time by looking through April's encyclopedias. He was getting the hang of actually reading it. It took him some time to get used to the characters called letters, but he was progressing and soon enough he believed he'd be able to decipher all of the printed words.

That night, as he sat by candlelight, looking over the illustrations of modern human contraptions, his mind began to churn over the structures. It all fascinated him and encouraged him to enhance and create his own variations. But then there was Leonardo.

At the thought, Donatello turned his head toward the upper part of their hut where Leonardo's nest was. He could hear him breathing, sleeping more peaceful than he could that night. With a sigh, Donatello turned his eyes back toward all of the drawn plans he had concocted after collecting all of the written information he could on these mechanics. He knew he should get rid of them, and a pass over the candle was all it took for the parchment plans to go up in smoke, but he was reluctant to part with them, so he clung close to them and closed his eyes.

He didn't sleep, but the hours did pass until early morning came upon him. The candle had long since flickered out, and the faint sound of singing birds echoed in the distance. The sky began turning a deeper blue at the approach of dawn, and the heavy snores of Michelangelo was ignored in favor of paying attention to Leonardo's movement. He was up.

Donatello stuffed his blueprints underneath him and shuffled in his nest, closing his eyes tightly. He heard Leonardo slide down the latter and move toward each of their nests. Michelangelo's first and then he leaned over Donatello's. If he knew he was still awake, he didn't make any comment. In fact Leonardo seemed more focused on Raphael's cold and empty nest than the prospect that one of his brothers was watching him.

Donatello had turned and opened his eyes just in time to watch his eldest brother leave their hut. And with him gone, it gave him a similar urge to leave. So he stuffed his pack with essentials, slung it over his shoulder and then took off before Michelangelo could wake up.

Managing to dodge conversation and roadblocks during a waking city wasn't easy, but Donatello's roamed these streets since he was very little, so he knew quite a few sidewalks and alley lanes that would lead him past gossiping neighbors, overactive agitators, and the heaviest trafficked areas. It was a road his other brothers roamed as well, which was why he knew he'd find Raphael at the end of it.

Under crossing arches where the eastern falls run down into troughs, there's a pen area where animals were sheltered until the butchers come to make their selection. Raphael had thought it was petting zoo when they were little until certain favorite animals simply weren't there the next day. He cried for weeks after understanding the nature of the butcher's alley, but he still frequents the place to feed the animals and give them compassionate company.

It was Raphael's second most frequented spot besides the wrestling arena under the great suiko statues. And just as expected after his previous argument with Leonardo, Donatello found Raphael wallowing there with the animals, finding comfort in their company.

"Raph." Green eyes glanced only briefly at him before looking away. Donatello sighed and came closer. "Raph, can I talk to you?"

Raphael still wouldn't look at Donatello. Instead he sat, a cabbage in one hand whilst a large pig dined on the plant. "It depends if you're just a message boy for Leo."

Donatello felt offended just by the accusation and assumption. "Leo didn't send me here. I came here because I wanted to ask if you'd take me to one of the black ships."

Raphael was patting the hog's hide when the notion of Donatello asking such a question paused his movements. At least he turned toward him. "What?"

With his interest piqued, Donatello knew it was safe to move in closer. Maneuvering around the clustered pigs, Donatello came up alongside his brother and pulled out his small engine. "If you take me to one of the black ships and let me get a feel of how the mechanics work I can make this replica better." Raphael was looking at him with curious eyes. "I can make a ship of our own." Donatello didn't need to carry on and say, "We could sail the world!" because he knew Raphael understood him at just that simple statement. All he needed was a guide because, well, he knew Raphael's been the closest to them.

"Why are you asking me?" Raphael inquired, picking another head of cabbage out of the crate beside him and fed the next hungry mouth.

"Because you've been to the ocean. Whichever outlet you passed through had to have at least a couple in sight." Donatello wondered if there was now. What if Raphael took a quieter more bluff-based route to the ocean in his endeavor to secure a blue fin tuna for April? Was he the one being too assumptive in believing his brother had encountered the large steam boats?

After a pause of contemplation, Raphael nodded his head. The corner of his mouth upturned. "There were three, and I passed underneath the hull of one."

Amazement instantly sparkled in the younger brother's brown eyes. Raphael was close enough to touch one? Oh, the pangs of jealousy began to pulse through every corner of his body. "Did you touch it?"

Raphael rolled his shoulders. He stood up, his smile sharpening. "No, but I can, and so can you if you want to."

Donatello's smile widened. He could barely contain his excitement.

"You ain't gonna be telling Leo about this, are you?" Raphael's smile fell and his eyes pierced Donatello's.

A sardonic look was all it took to convince Raphael of his loyalty. Raphael's smile returned a second later and with a nod of his head they both took off out of the city.

. . .

Peers called Michelangelo an excitement-chaser, neighbors called him cacophonous, his brothers called him one bamboo chute short of a cluster. But he liked to call himself observant, an opportunist. And the opportunity to leave home and city without attracting the curious attention of his brothers was nigh.

It was usual for his brothers to get up before him. Often times he woke to an empty hut where a few notes were scribbled to notify him of where they'd gone and will be for the entirety of the day. Michelangelo didn't see those as absences or negligence, but permission to go off on his own adventures. Besides, he'd likely be back before the three even returned home, so it wasn't like he was unreasonable in his draw toward idealistic ventures.

For this certain time-frame, Michelangelo set his plans for far outside the city, to the edge of their borders, even going as far to say it was within human territory. He wanted to see April's gallery, alright. He was going. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to make it there or find wherever it was, but he had all day to unravel its location.

Taking a few fruit and vegetables with him to munch on on the way was all Michelangelo needed as he bounded off on the road he chose for the day. He managed to get to the human city just before noon. Already it was bustling and lively, with enthusiastic and antagonistic sounds mixing into excited squeals of children and huffing snorts of working animals.

What Michelangelo would give to just be able to walk openly into that mayhem . . . just once.

While Michelangelo and his brothers lived in one of his own clan's biggest cities and knew the crowded life very personally, there was just something about human gathering that was so very different than kappa. For one, Michelangelo noticed the extensive use of fans, humans used them for heat relief, directional pointers, and encouragement banners. He liked it. And wanted one, or two of his own. Second, their vibrant attire. After observing April, he noticed a completely different comparison to the shades of her dresses and those she painted. Western clothing was darker more often than what the Japanese populace donned, and Michelangelo loved their designs, full of swirls, flowers, and animals. The colors ranged from bright yellows and oranges to reds and blues and purples.

Kappa shared a love of silk and bright threads, but where humans covered a majority of their bodies in those, Kappa used it all mostly for decoration of their homesteads and towns and cities in banners and braided ribbons. Moving through moist estates most of the time, it was hard to find any cloth resilient to that much damp use, but that's not to say the Kappa were completely devoid of clothing as the humans called it. Ribbons were sometimes wound around arms and legs and waists, Michelangelo and his brothers often braided strings around themselves, and where ribbons fell away, carvings and skin ink was used to give individuality. Inspirational kanji was popular to paint along shells or carve into plastrons. Girls tended to paint their shells while the boys wore ink in the skin of their arms and legs. Michelangelo bore such markings, and so did the likes of Leonardo and Raphael, but even in those common aspects, there was something about human clothing that fascinated Michelangelo and made his imagination swarm with the likes of himself adorned in those colors and designs. It was funny to think about, but aspirational as well. Maybe one day.

The third human aspect that Michelangelo found himself admiring was their craftsmanship. Similar to Kappa who knew how to farm, herd, and construct, there was just something about the human mind that could come up with so neat a design like those daggers and knuckle blades that hung along a shop wall. Michelangelo's eyes were wide and drawn to the different types of weapons. Humans, though the smallest out of the clans and the most short-lived, they made up their threatening position with the likes of their constructed weapons and unique fighting technique

Kappa didn't fight with weapons. With the toughest natural defense, if all else failed then the wetlands were their saving grace to wrestle their enemies until they lost their breath. So to be near actual physical weapons, Michelangelo was a little more than giddy. That and the fact that he had yet to be noticed by any human eye yet only spurred his bravado.

With so many buildings, there was a lot of small spaces in between, and in those space spaces between there were shadows even as high as the sun sat that day. And that was where Michelangelo was—for the most part. Every now and then he'd get a dog barking at him, but no curious eye had yet to find him sneaking around the city, poking at shipments, carts, and stock.

"Oho, look at this." Michelangelo had taken—borrowed—one of the displayed weapons sitting on a lower table. It was made from wood, with the handles wound in leather. Two pieces connected by a chain. Michelangelo wasn't quite sure how it worked but he didn't let unfamiliarity stop him from playing with it behind the shop.

At first he held both ends, swinging the chain in the middle like a jumping rope, but that got old very fast. So he took one handle in hand and swung the other around like a flail. The strength of the chain held no matter how fast and hard Michelangelo swung, and the stoutness of it all made his fascinated grin widen. Eventually he began to experiment further.

From one hand to another, Michelangelo flipped the weapon. He even managed to pass it around his waist, though it was in that motion that it fell out of control and it smacked into a barrel, nearly toppling it over and the water inside hadn't Michelangelo acted and caught it before it fell over. It was after his sigh of relief that Michelangelo noticed a viewer out of the corner of his eye. A child. He was staring at him, mouth open and eyes wide. Michelangelo wondered how long he'd actually been there.

With an apologetic and nervous smile, Michelangelo pressed a finger to his mouth to signal the child to stay quiet. He was, for a moment. But Michelangelo had to endure watching the human hatchling stiffly move back through the curtains into the shop and alert one of his parents.

"Mother! There's a kappa near the water barrels!"

"Oh, really? Just yesterday they were down by the bridge running off with your ball." The child's mother didn't at all seem impressed by her son's exclamation. It made Michelangelo giggle, but he knew it was time to move on in his search to find April's grand gallery.

His exploration around the market turned out fruitless—well, not completely fruitless, Michelangelo did manage to get some fruit from the corner bins and they were delicious—but in concerns to where April was, it was an absolute mystery. He had about given up and moved back toward the forest hadn't he noticed funny dressed men.

Westerners!

Michelangelo crept closer and listened in on their conversation.

"Could you give this message to the lieutenant? I would, myself, but I'm near late for Mr. Sacks' gathering."

"Is it a gala, sir? You seem pretty well dressed." The man's partner was smiling at him like he was jesting, but the older only shook his head.

"A gallery. If it were a gala, Kipling, you'd know." The two men offered a few more banters back and forth before parting ways, one with a message to deliver as ordered, and the other with a kappa trailing behind.

"He said gallery," Michelangelo said to himself with a consenting shrug. He just hoped it meant April's gallery. Only one way to find out.

. . .

It was hard to believe there were that many people there to see her work. Though, April believed it was because of Eric Sacks' influence that so many gathered to his hosted viewing. The statuses of those who were there still surprised her; colonels, lieutenants, delegates, of many various nations. More surprising was the appearance of even Japanese officials. In similarity to the westerners, they were dressed in fine robes, their hair properly done, with entourages large enough to be considered an individual crowd.

April saw a familiar face attached to one of the oriental groups, and would have gone up to greet her hadn't Eric Sacks, himself, approached her with a wide smile on his face. "Officer O'Neil, and April, so glad you could finally join us." He motioned toward the filling room and the many spectators eyeing her hanging work. "As you can see, there is a lot of talk about your contribution."

April blushed, squeezing her uncle's arm tighter. "I'm really honored that you'd host my gallery, Mr. Sacks. Really, I can't thank you enough."

"I was looking for an excuse to hold a party, so why not one with something to show off?" He seemed just as pleased by the captivation. His wandering gaze seemed to set and interest peaked. "Ah, they're here." He looked to Augustus. "Officer O'Neil, would I trouble you if I borrowed your niece for a moment?"

Augustus shook his head and untangled himself from April, encouraging her to take Eric's offered arm. Fighting her own nerves, April did so, and when he moved them through the room she realized he was quite protective and kind, never once moving away or ignoring her when fellows approached to strike up greetings. Her apprehension began to dissolve as her countenance began accepting him as a friend. And it seemed as he proudly introduced her to his comrades in the same manner.

"It's a pleasure to see you here." While Eric usually offered a hand to his guests, this particular group he bowed respectfully, leaving April wondering if she should do the same. But her churning decision came a little too late when the opposite group bowed in return. "April, this is Oroku Saki and his clan representatives. He is head of the Ashi Clan, a very prominent and well respected sect that have a history as old as Japan itself."

April offering her hand in greeting was subconscious. "It's a pleasure to meet you." When her gesture wasn't reciprocated, she realized her mistake and quickly pulled her hand away. She wanted to apologize, but she was left speechless under the man's hard gaze. Oroku Saki was a silent, but observing man. His eyes were used where words weren't—whether it was because of language barriers or not—and, stature wise, he was a tall, taller than most of his compatriots. In his stance he came off as powerful, a call to be respected. And April tried.

When April's eyes were finally able to break hold of the man's stare she noticed Karai standing a few paces behind. Her face lit up. "Karai! I didn't know you were a part of this clan."

The woman was well-dressed like her fellow clansmen, and her hair was up and decorated. She looked beautiful, but in an entourage full of nothing but men, April wondered why she was there. The woman only offered a respectable bow at her comment.

"Greetings, April O'Neil. It is unfortunate that I was never able to tell you about my clan, but it is an honor to be here today with my master." After her bow, she stepped closer and then offered Eric a formal bow.

"Karai is their translator," Eric informed. "It interests me to know you two have met before. I'm glad you were able to make some friends here, April."

April smiled. She really was glad to see Karai, though her stance was distant, and she didn't want to overstep their public boundaries. April could tell that Karai took her job serious and went on to watch as she translated for her companions as they made comments in concerns to the party, the company, as well as her art.

"My master says you paint well," Karai said in her translations as she followed around her clan whilst they browsed the paintings. They stopped before a set in the back. There were pictures that April added last minute after struggling with herself over whether or not to show them in the gallery, but it was through Eric's encouragement and her own love for the pieces that she relented. "My master is curious about this set. What is it?"

April's eyes brightened as she stood beside the paintings. They each had names in her heart, but she refrained that information. Instead she said, "Kappa," she replied. "After living here for some time I've come to familiarize myself with some of the folklore and folk monsters. I saw so many drawn pieces that I thought I'd put my own spin on them. Does he like them?"

Oroku Saki's eyes were fixated on the pictures. There were four portraits, each dedicated to a brother, each finely drawn and painted. Three other pieces hung near of them together in various poses and playful action. Innocently captured moments that April was proud to have been able to draw as well as be a part of.

From the man's silence, April had hopes that her impeccable talent just rendered him speechless. However, when the man's dark eyes looked back at her, April didn't see a glimmer of admiration in them. Instead, it was something else, something almost . . . dangerous.

"These are very detailed."

April blinked, stunned to hear accented English come out of his mouth despite Karai's presence stated as a needed translator. Karai, herself, even looked surprised by the response. Eric as well.

"Wha . . . I . . ." April took a moment to compose herself before saying, "I've been painting since I was three. It makes me proud to know a figurehead such as yourself appreciates my skill."

The man was looking at April, watching her as she spoke, but he made no further attempt to carry on the conversation. Instead he motioned Karai closer and then turned and muttered something to her. Karai looked at her master with confusion in her features.

"Are you sure?" She asked in their tongue, and when he nodded, she relented. "How much for the kappa?"

April once more stood in stunned silence. The pictures of the boys were a last minute addition. They hung to provide a mystic feel to her otherwise landscape paintings. She hadn't expected anyone to admire them, much less desire to purchase one of them.

"Oh, which one?" April inquired, watching Oroku Saki nod toward the pictures again.

Karai then said, "All of them."

In the end April attributed the attraction to her portraits of the boys because Mr. Oroku was from a traditional and old family. Traditional paintings of their lore and culture no doubt lavished the man's home, and now he would have the westernized—though accurate—versions of familiar imagery.

"I'll get my servants to take them down and bind them for our buyer." Eric turned and motioned toward his household staff and they came immediately, pulling down the works.

"Wait." April grasped one of the worker's hand. She wasn't so sure what she was doing, but in that paused moment, she understood her actions. "Let me help."

Eric nodded. "Of course. No one will take better care of the paintings than the one who painted them."

As April offed to one of the backrooms where the servants worked to wind the paintings in paper and secure jute, April took a moment to look over her work. She remembered painting each of them, she also remembered the exact day and month when she painted the selected pieces, to even what she and the brothers had been doing that day. She smiled at the nostalgia and noticed her gripping fingers, reluctant to part with them . . . as if she were parting with the brothers themselves.

The way her heart fluttered and smile tendered made her realize just how close she's come to them. While basking in the way the pictures made her feel, and those connected to them she hadn't realized the rest of the staff had disappeared, their work already done with the pictures wrapped and bound on the table. The remaining was in April's hands.

"Oh." She let out a sigh and began winding that one up, ready to transfer them onto a cart hadn't a noise just behind her caught her attention.

She expected to see a lingering staff member, not Michelangelo.

"Ah!" April was quick to slap a hand over her mouth, trying to subdue her natural reaction. Michelangelo had given a startled yelp too, and the shelves he was pressed behind rattled as he shook himself out from them.

"What are you doing here?!" April came close to help pull the kappa clear. She was upset, so very upset, especially since Michelangelo continued to hold that stupid grin of his.

"It was a surprise," Michelangelo stated. "I wanted to see your gallery. Kind of a small place to hang pictures up though."

April groaned. She even had her rant ready hadn't Michelangelo moved toward the table and noticed the packaged pictures, especially the one April hadn't finished wrapping yet.

"Oh, heeey." He picked up the painting and looked it over. "I remember that day. You brought over five baskets of those pizza things and I ate them all. Everyone else wasn't too happy, but my stomach sure was." He looked at April. "I didn't know you were showing these."

"I _was_ ," she said while reaching out and taking the painting to finish wrapping it. "They were sold."

"Sold?" Michelangelo gasped. "Someone must have noticed our good looks!"

April held back her chortle, but carried on with her work regardless. As soon as the paintings were set on a cart she turned to the kappa. "I'm not sure how you even managed to get here, but you need to get back out before anyone sees you."

"But I didn't get to see the rest of your pictures," he complained. He looked at the door. "Is it out there?" The moment he moved toward the door, April slid in front of him and pushed her hands against his plastron.

"No!" she demanded. "There's a bunch of people out there. What are you even thinking? Just imagine what they could do to you." Her words made the kappa pause and actually think for a moment. April sighed. She didn't have time to stay and convince him further. "Look, I'll be right back, alright? Wait here."

The moment she carted the bound paintings back out, Karai was taking up her position for her. "Our gratitude," she said while one of the men handed April the sum that had been negotiated and agreed on by Eric Sacks.

"It's a shame you can't stay further, Master Oroku," Eric said. "But hosting you even for a little while was a pleasure." He offered a bow while the clan did the same before Oroku Saki turned and his entourage followed.

April was at a loss for words at the amount she was holding in her hands. Eric only smiled at her astonishment.

"You are a talented artist, and so I negotiated a proper price for you work."

Proper price. What April held in her hands was equivalent to a full year's wage back in the States. Her uncle's salary didn't even come close to what she'd just made on her paintings.

The day was simply surreal and absolutely wonder and she never wanted it to en—Oh god, Michelangelo was still in the backroom! Turning on her heel, she bade Mr. Sacks carry on with his carousing while she took a moment to relieve herself. Her race back to the room took less than a minute, but as soon as she came into the empty room her heart began to hammer in panic.

Her wide blue eyes took her back to the gallery where crowds thickened, people conversed and communed, and corner shadows rose just high enough out of window light to conceal a young kappa, straining his neck to see the artwork displayed along the walls. April about had a heart attack at the sight.

"Mikey!" She ground out as she approached him. Luckily he was covered in a sheet. Where he got that was a wonder. "I told you to stay out of here." When he turned to her she noticed his pale complexion. He was covered in flour. "Where did you even get that?"

"The kitchens," he stated. "Along with some other things." He smiled as he patted his abdomen. "But it's all good, April. No one's seen me yet. Hee, hee, I've got sneaking skills."

Just then, April noticed a couple moseying their way to that part of the gallery. She sighed and turned to push Michelangelo to sit, pulling the sheet further over him. "Not yet," she murmured.

"Are you April O'Neil?" It was a couple, and from their accents they were of French nationality.

"Oh, uh, yes, yes I am." April was quick to brush the flour coating her palms against her dress and straighten herself properly to greet the man and woman.

"Your art is astounding," the man said with a smile. "It must have taken you a while to paint it all."

April shrugged. "I had a lot of time on my hands."

"I particularly like your portraits," the woman said with sparkling eyes. "You have this outstanding ability to captures emotions in your detailed colors. Your art would be appreciated in France."

April flushed. "You really think so?" The two nodded.

"My wife was actually considering buying one of the portraits to take home with her," the man said. "How much do your prices run for?"

April recalled the amount she was given for the kappa set. She couldn't charge this couple that much, but she was curious how much they were willing to give. In her curious calculations she hadn't noticed the woman move around her and take a peak underneath the concealed lump behind her.

"Oh, I didn't know you sculpted too!"

April blinked and twisted around. There the woman stood with a wide smile, pulling off the sheet and giving a wide-eyed, but luckily quite still, Michelangelo a glance over.

"Oh, what on earth were you even trying to make out of this?" Her husband wasn't far from taking in the sight of the "sculpture."

April was speechless. Her wide eyes met Michelangelo's who looked at her curiously before looking ahead whilst he was examined by the pair.

"O-Oh, that?" April came close so to try and keep the two from reaching out and touching him. "I'm more of a painter, only dabbled with sculpting. It's an unfinished piece, really."

"But the detail is exquisite," the woman said as she leaned closer and let her eyes roam over the texture of Michelangelo's skin. "Surely, you must have named it."

April chuckled to try and play along with their upbeat attitudes. But the paranoia eating away at her was killing her. "A name? Oh, yes, of course. It's Michelangelo." The two looked at her quizzically. April wondered if she should have picked another title. "I, uh, the great artists of the renaissance always inspired me as a child so I often name my works after them." She looked at where Michelangelo sat, his elbow on his knee and knuckles under his chin. This was no doubt the most still she's ever seen him hold. Impressive. "The Japanese culture has an interesting set of lore, of which I captured in this work. Mainly inspired by their water creatures. I was thinking about showing this, but, really, sculpting isn't my strongest suit, so I should have _never_ brought him _here_."

"You're quite humble, Ms. O'Neil. A pleasant girl you are," the man said with a smile.

"How much for the sculpture?" April turned to the wide smiling wife.

"Oh, I don't think you'll want . . . it's not finished," April excused.

The woman waved off the comment. "Many great pieces are unfinished. And I have just the place for this statue at my estate." She looked toward her husband and nodded.

"When the wife wants something, it is the husband's duty to appease her." The man chuckled as he pulled out his purse. "How much, Mademoiselle O'Neil?"

April glanced back at Michelangelo whose eyes moved to hers in a moment of shared worry. "I . . . I . . . it's very expensive."

The man chuckled. "Is of no matter." He remained expectant, waiting for her to relay the price.

April could literally feel herself sweating. She didn't want to offend the couple, and she most certainly didn't want to sell them a sculpture that would only get up and walk away. So, she said, "I can't sell him. He's . . . priceless."

That seemed to disappoint the couple. But as the man put his purse away he smiled. "I understand. Some work is near and dear to the artist."

April nodded, stepping closer to the couple and guiding them through the rest of her paintings. "But you said you were interested in some of my portraits? Which ones? I can sell you those."

As she walked off with the two she turned her head and nodded at the kappa who was quick to leave his position and move back towards the doors. April felt relief flood her like a wave. She'd have to deal with Michelangelo after she made another sell.

. . .

It was uncommon for adolescent kappa to be seen at the quarterly gatherings. Not because they were bared entrance, but because most kappa Leonardo's age held interests elsewhere, like in sports, girls, and pranks. While he gave his own attention to each of those subjects, he also set aside reverence for the goings on of their people.

Seated near the base of an arch, Leonardo watched the most respected representatives arrive with offerings and tribute and large entourages. Their territory was vast and wide and consisted of many villages, towns, and smaller cities. Seeing each colorful life pass through the capital was exciting. These characters were both familiar and unfamiliar as leaderships changed and new seats aged.

It was at the center of the city, in the bowl where springs bubbled underneath and bridged courts stood over where the kappa came to report their populaces, their territorial issues, and their stock statuses. Most were repetitive, but there were a few, groups that lived near borders, that experienced struggle with antagonizing neighbors. It was that kind of information Leonardo enjoyed keeping track of, that and to see a certain sect.

Seated before the entirety of them was Mother, an old but surviving remnant of ages past. She was well over eight thousand years old, but her resilience to time carved her position among their people, and it was she who approved or disapproved of the tribute given and the information relayed from each kappa before her. Before her stood rows of large and strong kappa, and it was they who formed her strength when she called for different sectors to come to her.

"The Miyagi district!" When the representatives for that territory came forward, Leonardo shifted and zoned his gaze on the group. They were strong and seasoned kappa. Their gift to Mother was nothing grand nor inapt, humble. They were easily one such group to slip back underneath the waves of the crowds gathered. They weren't numerous, nor was the town they stood in for, but Leonardo was drawn to them out of respect and admiration, and after their head—Mother—dispersed the gathering, friendly reunions and respectable banter took place outside of the bowl.

"Mamo, Junpei!" Leonardo called to their attention as he moved through the crowd towards them. The two immediately turned and smiled, welcoming him with open arms.

"Ienari!" they exclaimed while the others in their group came to surround the adolescent. "Look at you, you've gotten so big."

"You would say that, Mamo, because you've missed the past twenty gatherings," Ienari said, poking his old friend on the plastron. The kappa backed away as if the touch had mortally wounded him. But when playful laughter erupted, the joyous reunion carried on.

"I was sick, alright." Mamo shrugged and then nudged Leonardo with his elbow. "It was the best excuse I could come up with when the mate wasn't wanting to be the only one brooding."

Leonardo's eyes brightened. "She already birthed the clutch?"

Mamo nodded, holding up five fingers to signify the amount of eggs. "We're expecting them two springs from now."

"Congratulations." Leonardo was always happy to hear of the town's growth and that of his friends' families.

"But look at you!" Mamo said, patting Leonardo on his shoulder. "You're looking so much like Genbu; it's unbelievable." His lighthearted banter began to mellow out, his shifting mood was felt by the others in revere memory. "He was a good kappa, and an even greater suiko." He glanced toward Junpei who nodded in agreement.

"I can't even hope to replace all that he was," Junpei said, current reigning suiko of their town. When his eyes turned toward the statue erected in Genbu's honor—an honor only few were given—Leonardo followed. "Every gathering, when I see that, I still don't think it's enough." He looked back at Leonardo with the utmost respect in his dark eyes, as if he were looking at Genbu himself. "I regret I wasn't able to let you know him better."

Leonardo rolled his shoulders. He had vague memories of his father, after all he had died in battle when he and his brothers were less than a decade old. He wished the same, he really did.

"I just appreciate knowing those who he surrounded himself with," Leonardo said with friendly pats.

"Yeah, perhaps it's not too far off where you'll be a suiko of your own establishment. What do you think of that?" Mamo said.

Leonardo wouldn't lie, he's dreamed of doing just that for as long as he could remember. But he had years still before he could even begin that process of walking down that path. That and it was frightening in a way. Being a suiko meant being head of a village, a town, or even a large city. He'd have to make a name for himself, and not just glide on the tail of his hero father. It was a journey that he knew he'd have to take alone, and he'd never really been alone before, that and he wasn't sure if he wanted to pursue such a solitary life like that.

"What are you saying, Mamo? Of course the kid'll make a suiko position. He's Genbu's boy!" A proud cheer rang from the surrounding kappa, but then a further comment was added. "I can even see it in his brothers. Where are they, anyway?"

Eyes glanced around for the missing kappa. "Haven't seen them for a while."

"You know the others; just can't sit through the gatherings. Especially Michi," Leonardo replied.

There was acknowledging laughter from that comment, and nodding heads. "But it's great to see all four of you. Really wish you'd all come to live with us."

Leonardo's lips twitched at the idea, an idea that was constantly brought up. "Yeah, but we were hatched in the city. Don't get me wrong, I've love to visit sometime, but this is our home. We're comfortable here."

"Yeah, that's why your mother laid you here," Mamo said with a wave of his hand. "Smart girl. Genbu built our town well, with strong walls, but that's because the Tengu had a habit of flying over more than a few times a month. Hagino couldn't stomach it until Genbu made sure there was no more threats. Town's still haphazardly close to Tengu territory, but that's what gives it its charm and liveliness, don't you say, boys?"

The others let out cheers and laughter, but they were serious in all their comments. Leonardo wasn't afraid of encountering other clans, but he was fearful of his brothers' interactions. A hesitation which kept them in the city, safe behind thick walls.

"How have the borders on your side been anyways?" Leonardo asked. He heard their reports before Mother but he knew that they didn't always relay every detail.

Junpei and Mamo's faces shifted, as did the others' expressions. "We lost Nao and his family last month."

Leonardo's eyes widened. He hadn't expected a loss to have been exempted from their report.

"They lived near the river," Mamo stated. "We hadn't heard from them for weeks before any one of us went to check in on him. Not much was left of them, and his hatchlings were nowhere to be found. Tengu. They ate most of them."

It had been centuries since they suffered a casualty like that, and even still the previous casualty being a loss of a farm and its animals, not the kappa themselves. It was always a risk to live near bordering territories, but Leonardo believed in Mamo, Junpei, and their fighters. The dangers of their lands only emboldened them and made them strong. These sort of deaths didn't happen often.

"Was it a rogue attack?" Leonardo questioned.

"We wanted to believe that until Saburo's village was attacked just three weeks ago. Tengu, again. They lost fifteen hatchlings and two of their mothers."

Leonardo was at a loss for words for a moment. So much tragedy usually didn't come so close together. "Then why didn't Saburo mention this?" He'd been there, and remembered the suiko mention a loss of population, but blamed it on an illness that passed through their village. However, the truth was something much more gruesome . . .

"Because he's working with us to try and find out what is going on," Junpei said. "There's a reason why I could only bring half of my warriors. Five days ago there was another attack. Nothing came of it because I had my kappa stationed there, but these strikes keep coming. Something's unsettled the Tengu nearby, enough to make them attack more often than they do."

The news disturbed Leonardo, though deep down inside he was grateful for his own safe position, and that no opposing clan would travel so far into kappa territory to attack their best guarded city. But his heart went out to Junpei and his town, a town that was once under the guidance and protection of his sire.

"I don't understand why you won't tell Mother. She could send soldiers to strengthen your boundaries." Despite Leonardo's promising statement, Junpei just shook his head.

"Not in our district," Junpei said. "We're not rich enough for that kind of treatment. We have to look after our own, even our neighbors."

There was desperation in Leonardo's eyes, a want to help these friends so close to his family. The others saw it, and it was Junpei who placed a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. "Genbu used to give me that same look." He smiled. "You've got a good heart, Ienari, but you have your youth. Don't let these troubling times interrupt that, especially when it's so far from you."

"I promise I'll one day repay all the good you've been to me and my brothers," Ienari said with a sure nod.

Junpei nodded in agreement before motioning toward Mamo. "What say we take Ienari and wash away all this upheaval with some good food and strong drink?"

Mamo chortled. "He old enough for that?"

Junpei laughed as he slung an arm around the young kappa's neck. "We're about to find out."

And off they went to spend endearing times together, and in all the revelry, Leonardo almost forgot the worry at wondering where his brothers had went that day. Almost . . .

. . .

Donatello hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Raphael had helped pull him up beside the hull and set him right on deck of the ship. Eyes wide and smile painfully open, he didn't know where he should go first. His excitement only stoked Raphael's cross-armed pride further, obviously.

"No one's here," Raphael said as he watched Donatello roam about the deck with pleased green eyes. "Told you I could get you on one."

"You were right, you were right!" Donatello turned toward Raphael and reached out to grasp and shake his arm. "This is really happening! Do you even know what this ship can do?!"

"No, but I'm pretty sure you're going to tell me," Raphael said with a snicker whilst he followed his excited brother around.

"I can't believe I'm this close to the smokestacks." Donatello's smile never waned, nor did his excited enthusiasm. He moved, leaning over the railing to set his wide eyes on the propellers. "And the paddlewheels, they're huge!"

"Hey, Donnie." There was Raphael, lifting up a panel that led into the belly of the ship. "Let's do some further investigating. Maybe see how this thing works."

Donatello nearly tripped as he scrambled over toward his brother who let him down first. When they slipped inside Raphael shut the door behind them. Not necessarily wise given the extremely low lighting, but kappa had good eyesight, even at night.

While no human had been on deck when they climbed aboard, that didn't mean they wouldn't run into a straggler inside. Raphael was moving first, checking rooms before nodding the all-clear to his brother. But it was Donatello who found the boiler room.

"Coal!" Donatello picked up a piece. "That's what they're using to move it."

Raphael looked over the components of the engine room. It was clear he wasn't able to wrap his mind around the functions of the contraption, that's why he had Donatello with him.

"Why don't you start it up?" Raphael questioned.

Donatello guffawed in his brother's direction after stealing a piece of coal into his pack. "Start it up?" He parroted. "This is the first engine I've ever seen. I mean it's clearly got a boiler and high and low pressure cylinders, I can only expect those to move toward the pistons, if it's even got those. What if it doesn't, Raph? What if the schematics that April gave are outdated? What if there are further devices I don't know about?"

"Hey." A knock to his shell silenced the younger brother. Donatello composed himself and looked to Raphael. "I know you, you got this."

Donatello grinned and cracked his knuckles, very willing to dig his fingers into each compartment and lever.

. . .

"Did you see that, April? Those two wanted to buy me." Michelangelo let out a giggle. "I'm a piece of art."

April sighed while she tried to rub what flour she could off of him. "Yes, you're just lucky I didn't agree to their terms."

Michelangelo laughed again. "I know. You said I was priceless. Aw, you like me, April."

With that comment and that face, April couldn't help but smile in response. She swatted his head with the wet cloth just because she could and then turned to push the floury water back underneath the table. "Of course I do. Wouldn't sell any of you for the world."

"But you'd sell our pictures," Michelangelo noted.

April sighed, her smile faltering. "I'm starting to regret that now . . ." Though the portraits weren't as precious to her as it was the ones attached to them, there was still something endearing about the memory of drawing and painting them that softened her heart and the realization that she wouldn't get to run her eyes over those memories made her forlorn.

The distant sound of approaching voices alerted the both of them to the returning staff. A shared panicked look was all it took for them to dart back down the hall and feverishly search for the backdoor. When they found it they in turn found the docks.

"Woooow, check out the size of those ships." Michelangelo's eyes rounded at the vessels wading in front of them. "Never been this close before."

April jumped at the sight of patrolling sailors headed their way. Quickly grabbing Michelangelo by the hand she tugged him along.

"Where are we going?" He questioned, but with April's hiss he quickly learned when to cease his chatter.

"There are sailors around," She said lowly. She looked for a way to get him out unseen, but everywhere she turned she noticed the patrol gaining body. Spitting out a quiet curse, April then realized she'd have to make a run for one of the docked ships.

Once a pair of officers passed by, April and Michelangelo made a sprint for one of the ships. As soon as they were on board the railing was enough coverage to set April's racing heart at ease for a moment. A further sigh helped her steady her breathing.

"Stay here. I'll be back in a little while, but I just can't leave Mr. Sacks to carry on my gallery." April was reluctant to let go of Michelangelo's hands, as if she feared the moment she released her hold the kappa would run off into further dangers. But she had no choice. "Please, don't let anyone see you."

Michelangelo nodded and April left him. She had to.

"Hello, miss. What brings you here?" April hadn't gotten far before the sailors noticed her walking along the docks. She stopped and offered them a pleasant smile.

"I don't mean to intrude. I'm from the party and just wanted some fresh air. The garden was full so I thought a walk down the docks would do me good." The men were young and their eyes seemed attracted her so. For once, she was glad to have their attention. "I'm sorry to be a bother."

"Bother?" One snickered before nodding to his comrade. "It ain't every day we get a dame passing our way. You're presence isn't at all unwelcome."

April blushed at the comment and continued to keep their company only up until their eye wandered away from her. When she noticed how they widened and the paleness their complexion took on it made her heart drop. They'd seen something.

"Bless my soul! The ship!"

April turned to see the vessel swaying off. The sails weren't down and the anchor was still weighed. The only thing moving it was the paddlewheels, and from the smoke coming off of the stacks, it was obvious someone was in the boiler room.

For a brief moment April was clutched with fear, believing that Michelangelo had somehow gone below deck to mess around inside, but unlike the sailors who had turned to warn their counterparts of the sudden issue, she managed to see him tip against the mast, his eyes looking back at her in endless confusion, a shrug was all he offered to validate his innocence.

Really, the only thing April could do in that moment was scream as the renegade ship carried away her friend. "Mikey!"

. . .

Both Donatello and Raphael lurched the moment the ship began to move. The whistling and hissing inside the room indicated that every contraption was running as it should.

Raphael smacked his brother against his shell. "Way to go! You did it, Donnie. The ship's moving!"

Excitement had the younger kappa trembling and with a glance toward Raphael, both he and Donatello darted out of the room toward a circular window to watch the scenery pass by.

"Words can't describe how amazing this is right now." Donatello was all grins while Raphael nodded in agreement.

"We should keep going." Donatello blinked and turned toward his older brother with unbridled confusion. Raphael only leaned over to nudge him. "You want to get outta here, right, Don? Why not just keep going until we leave Japan entirely?"

Donatello stiffened. He leaned away, trying to understand just what Raphael was proposing. "Leave Japan? Raph, this is our home. What about Leo? And Mikey?"

Raphael rolled his eyes. Donatello could see that at the mention of their eldest brother an almost forgotten grudge returned to shade his irises. "You know what Leo would say. And Mikey? He'd probably just get bored. They like it here too much."

"I like it here."

Raphael shifted away from the window, looking fully at Donatello. "Yeah, but you're constantly looking at the maps with me. I know you want to travel."

"We can't though," Donatello said. "I still don't know too much about these ships, and what'll we even survive on when we reach the sea?"

"I know you; you'll figure out all the rigging in no time, and if you're worried so much about food then I can just teach you how to fish in the ocean. It ain't that hard. Come on, Don, Donnie, Denno."

There was a moment where Donatello's heart soared at the idea. The thrill passed through him quickly, enough to give him visions of grandeur of daring times with just him and Raphael. But when the feeling was gone, realization came flooding into him, and all it did was churn his stomach.

Eyes glanced back toward the boiler room. He could still hear the parts hissing and groaning, and moving in all those beautifully intricate ways. These sounds made him ache more when he understood his part in it all.

"This was it, wasn't it? You only took me so that I could figure out how to run it." He looked at his brother then with darkening eyes. "So that I could help you leave." He shook his head, even as Raphael opened his mouth to try to speak. "No. I'm not going to be an accomplice in your escape. You don't want me with you, Raph. You only need me for the technicalities."

A sigh was all that was heard before Donatello moved back into the room and began shutting the working components off. The ship stopped abruptly.

"Donnie, what are you doing?" Raphael came into the room. His eyes were wide. He looked devastated, so much so that he hadn't seen Donatello's own devastation.

Turning toward him, Donatello stood resolute. Lips pressed in a thin line and brow furrowed. His eyes narrowed, blinking only twice to bid away the collecting moisture. "I'm not doing this, Raph. Unlike you, I can't stand the thought of leaving my family."

As he made his way to the door, he had to bump into Raphael's hulking frame just to push past him. He could feel Raphael's eyes on him. He could even feel his distress.

"Donnie, where are you going?" Donatello didn't answer, instead he carried on his way until he reached the top deck. "Donnie, I'm sorry!"

There was a chance Donatello would have turned around at the sound of his brother chasing him up deck hadn't the sight of a very familiar face been standing before him. "Mikey?"

Michelangelo stood there, looking just as surprised but slightly more bashful than usual. At least he offered a wave. "Hey, Donnie." His eyes caught the sight of Raphael coming up. "Raph."

The chime of bells and blow of whistles alerted all three to the oncoming schooners headed their way. All packed with brands of sailors, the likes of which probably owned the ship they took. Not another word was said, only a look shared before they all dove off the side and into the river.

By the time the sailors got the boat they found it empty, and more than a few stories rose up on how the ship came to life on its own that day.

. . .

"I still don't understand what infatuated you so much about these paintings." Karai made a face as she opened the framed work, looking around her master's estate as to where he even wanted to hang them. She sighed, seeing no room for the westernized art. It would only put a blotch on the walls in her opinion.

Oroku Saki moved along the hall of tapestry and décor that had been handed down for generations. One such piece of art was a sheet that held images of five different clans. The Oni Clan, the Kappa Clan, the Tengu Clan, the Kitsune Clan, and the Human Clan. Karai had seen it a million times during her shared patrol, and she understood its presence in the home; those paintings were traditional. April O'Neil's render of their monsters was something so odd looking it was almost another creature entirely.

"We will keep them here," Oroku Saki said, waving over toward a collection that consisted of hung ancient weapons and two large shells from battles past.

Karai made another distasteful face as she approached the area where she was meant to hang the pictures. "Here, Master? But why?"

"Because," he said as he reached down to take up one of the pictures, the one depicting all four caricatures. "These images. They look just like them."

Karai's brow furrowed. Oroku Saki took his eyes off of the painting for a moment to look at her for a moment before he turned to place the picture near the relics. "It is an interesting notion to know that my own soldiers, sworn to fight against these creatures and to prevent Hyakki Yako, are unfamiliar with the true face of their enemies. Instead, a western painter has discovered a meeting ground, no doubt shamefully close to our territory."

"What are you saying, Master?"

The head of the clan looked back. His face riddled with upset. "It takes time to paint, and in such detail. She knows these kappa. It cannot be allowed. Not after all the years we've fought to keep our people safe."

Karai felt her heart seize at the notion. She wondered if April even knew of the danger she was in. She wondered if it was only a matter of time before they pulled her into the watery depths to steal her life away. What a stupid girl she was, but there Karai stood, sinking to her knees to prostrate herself before her master over her own incompetence. While she knew and understood the clan and their mission, she was naïve only in the sense of battle with these dark forces.

"Forgive me, Master, for not seeing this sooner! I beg you to teach me. To show me their faces so that I will never forget our enemies!"

Karai's plea was answered. The next morning Oroku Saki took many of the novice recruits and traveled to the far reaches of human territory where the trees died out and the grass faded away to gravel and ash. Stone structures remained in place for fortified solitude, lined up against one another as a wall. It was from there Karai saw her first monster.

"Kitsune," Saki said with narrowed eyes from the perch they holed themselves inside. "The size of horses when they're on all fours. Out of all the clans they possess the magic of fire. That is why we remain here in stone walls." He looked at Karai with hardened eyes. "They have the ability to shift into the likes of a human, so never let your guard down."

Karai nodded, and continued to look at the creatures down below. She was absolutely amazed. Though art had depicted these beings for thousands of years, no portrait in tapestry or vase could compare to actually seeing one in the flesh as they ran out from over the hill to assault their gates.

Red, golden, and black, the kitsune clan varied in shade and height, but even their smallest soldier was large enough to knock a man off his horse, and then the horse off its hooves. Their snouts were long, and their teeth sharp. Their eyes held a menace to them, unnatural and magical, especially when they began glowing as the fires they conjured.

"They attack as if we've caused them great offense," Karai said as her breath was taken away by the sight of their strength and speed and resilience to even the many arrows shot at them. She watched one finally fall after a hundred arrows pierced its hide.

"The only offense we have caused is by existing." Karai looked up at her master. "Kitsune hate humans, they hate Oni, they hate Tengu, and they hate Kappa. And the other clans share the same sentiments. If we do not fight, if we do not continue, then they will destroy us—if not the Kitsune then the other clans."

The sound of their growls and roars sent chills throughout Karai's body. They sounded like no animal she's ever encountered. But they weren't animals, and from those horrendous sounds, they reminded her of that fact.

"No matter which clan, when a new head takes their seat they rile their people to strike out. And Takeshi's resolution has not shaken even after all these years." Saki's eyes burned with a fire similar to the ones licking around the kitsune. She admired that ferocity in his eyes. That resolve coming from a man who's dealt with these creatures for a long time.

The sight of a fire-consumed kitsune leaping over the rushing ground forces had Karai turning her attention back. Its entire body radiated heat, especially when it whipped its many tails to a fro, sending kitsunebi into the unprotected sides of their flank. That was when Karai watched over five men fall from the flames, screaming and writhing in their painful demise.

"They are in need of relief." Karai's master didn't take his eyes off of the gruesome sight below. Nothing more was said or commanded, but Karai understood where she needed to be in that moment.

"I shall aid them, my master." Karai bowed and moved away. Behind her was a squadron of well-armed and armored soldiers. They had taken an oath, swearing to give their bodies, their breath, and their souls for the sake of their clan. Their bodies had been hardened, bent and broken through years of rigorous training, all to gain the ability to efficiently kill these monsters that constantly pushed into their world.

How prepared they were when they left the confines of their fortresses was a question that would be answered soon enough.

Half of the squadron that Karai ran out with took pikes, the other half rolled in wet barricades. Even from far away Karai could feel the heat, and her heart raced at the feel of the temperature rising the closer she ran to aid her brethren. The screams were the second thing that Karai's attention noticed after the heat.

Pushed up dirt formed trenches, and above were the barricades made of wet timber. They dried easily in the fervent attacks. Karai and those that came in relief did what they could with the barrels of water they brought with them, but in their efforts to put out the fires on the shields and those engulfed in the eating bright tongues, the sounds of the creatures only approached.

Karai turned around just as one of her clansman reached up and sent his pike through a kitsune's neck whilst it smashed through the broken barricade. It fell, crashing into the trench just as the others moved out of its way and speared what was left of it. Its spasming body sloshed blood everywhere, with a glob splattering across her face.

Gasping, Karai jumped back, rubbing at the sting in her eyes. She bumped into a barrel and immediately began cleaning herself from the stain. As soon as her vision cleared she heard shouts around her. Another kitsune had broken through.

The others ran, but she stood stunned, frozen by its size and its piercing gaze. It had five tails and with a twitch from each its body melted into fire. Then it ran toward her.

Karai hadn't been so stunned then to turn and run away. There was no need to look back. The heat reaching her was enough to know it persisted on her trail. She hoped over bags of dirt, over crates of supplies. When she ran into the water barrels she tipped them over, trying to stop its burning path. It didn't halt it whatsoever.

It hoped over and lunged at her. Karai believed she was spared the worst of it because she went crashing down into the water barrels. She was soaked in water and blood, and as she scrambled to her feet, she forced her nerves to remain out of sight and took up a spear, swinging it at the creature before her.

A thrust pushed the spearhead into its shoulder, but the weapon was lost after that, burnt up. Karai had nothing else but close-range weapons, so she ran again until the faint hope of coolness brushed past her face. She stopped. There was no more heat, no sound of pounding paws

Shaking limbs had Karai crumbling to the ground. There were tears in her eyes, running over the remnants of previous ones long since evaporated. It was there she sat in the horrors of the sounds around her and the sight of her dead clansmen, burnt beyond recognition all for the sake of defending their family, their people. No one wanted to die in such horrible ways, Karai didn't, but she had to be prepared to. She had to.

A hand fell on her trembling shoulder. Karai screamed, darting back. The man behind her looked at her with wide eyes. He pressed a finger to his lips and then pointed above them at the sound of pattering over the higher barricades. It was frightening that it was so quiet they could hear unhindered kitsune walking above them.

Karai pushed her hands against her lips and closed her eyes for a moment to try and compose herself. The scent of smoke and rotting flesh was everywhere, disturbing her from catching what peace of mind she was reaching for, if only to keep her from sobbing. When she opened her eyes she noticed that even her fellow clansman was sizzling.

Wait.

Her eyes widened when she realized his clothes were burning away, with the faint outlines of something behind him, something swaying—like tails. There was a smile on his face, teeth much too sharp to be human. And his eyes, oh his eyes were that of an animal's, glowing as fire descended out of them.

Karai would have met her end like those she had stumbled amongst, but two metallic claws pierced the man's—kitsune's—belly. Its cry wasn't human, and before Karai's very eyes she watched it shift grotesquely into a beast. It hissed, snarling as it turned.

In the light of the fires, the reflection off of her master's armor was mesmerizing. As was the way he fought the kitsune. Oroku Saki was head of the clan because he was seasoned and possessed the deepest understanding of their greatest art—bodily combat. While he used jagged gauntlets to pierce, he used his body to tear and to _shred_.

Even against the kitsune's fire, Karai's master lost no ground and rammed it through without fear of its heat. In the end it was its blood that put out its fading flames. And when the kitsune above heard the cries of their brother, they came down, three of them.

In her shame, Karai curled down to protect herself from the intensity of it all, but her wide eyes couldn't move away. She watched Oroku Saki take each of them, pushing them into one another before grabbing them, hurling them, and then crushing them.

The front had struggled with one and ran at two, but Karai's master, the head of this clan, took out four with ease. What she would do to have such confidence, such skill.

"My master!" she cried, bowing before him. "I am unworthy!" While he fought she sat there and cowered. She did not deserve his tutelage. She did not deserve to hold the clan's name. She deserved nothing but death.

"Yet you are the only one that remains."

Karai blinked away the tears and looked around her. Piled into the corners were bodies, new and old ones. Many of the faces she recalled coming into the trenches with.

"Get up."

Karai looked up at her master, at the man who would save them all. On shaking legs she stood. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked down.

"Look at the beasts."

Karai shook, fighting off the trauma she had just recently witnessed.

"Look at them."

She forced herself to look at the mangled bodies of the kitsune, of the creatures that raged against them. That sought their demise.

"This experience will make sure you never forget the faces of those that sought your end and the end of your clansmen. Remember them, Karai, because the dead cannot."

Even in her trembling, Karai felt her fists clench as her heart seized with a hatred that has been bred and passed on from generation to generation. And shall continue after that day.


	7. Tengu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters just keep getting longer, haha, sorry!

After the escape, Michelangelo made sure to slip away from his brothers. It was for the better. They were probably upset with him being at the gallery and on the human boat. Though, what exactly were they doing on the ship? He’d have to wag his finger at them before they ever got the chance.

He’d look for it another time. At the moment he needed to focus on getting back home while also avoiding his brothers who were likely on their way back as well. There was only one way to do that; take another route. This one was a longer trek, veering closer to the border the humans share with the kitsune.

Obviously there was a chance he could run into either Clan, but this was a road Michelangelo’s traveled before, he knew how to keep his head down if he happened to cross any unfriendly wanderer. It might take him a little while to reach home, but he’d be back before anyone began to worry.

It wasn’t long into the hike when Michelangelo began feeling aches in his stomach. He was hungry. Not a bad time to take a fishing break.

When in search for any form of water, Michelangelo was disappointed to find the area lacking lakes or even a river. The only landscape he was met with was fields and fields of cleared brush, all burnt into ash. There were a few trees but a majority of them were scorched against the trunk—obvious markings of kitsunebi. It all put a quicker pace in Michelangelo’s step.

Dodging through the trees, Michelangelo was overly grateful to finally make it to the greener side of the territories. Passing through some bushes made his eyes roam over their leaves and the berries underneath. Not as filling as fish, but Michelangelo was glad to put anything in his stomach.

There he sat, eating berries until his search for more had found him a chain. He pulled until he discovered a metal clamp with jagged edges. A bear trap.

Wide blue eyes looked around more intently and discovered quite a few of the devices in the area. He’d have to watch his step from there on out, and he did, but there was a certain high pitched noise that disrupted the atmosphere and drew Michelangelo’s attention closer.

There, propped up against a tree was a thin kitsune. It looked exhausted and in pain, no doubt from the trap digging into its paw. And what a nasty wound it was, blood caking onto the fur but shaving away what clung closest to the incisions. It was an ugly color, which made Michelangelo wonder how long the kitsune had been there.

Wide eyes looked over toward Michelangelo, and suddenly there was a life in the creature. It waved its tail and pulled until it fell back to the ground, straining the chain as well as its wounded leg. It gave out horrendous cries, but the fright in it was something Michelangelo never expected to see. It was afraid of him.

Raising his hands, Michelangelo came closer. “I’m not going to hurt you.” As soon as he glanced down at where the trap was pinned into the ground a heat rushed his way. “WHOA!” Jumping back, Michelangelo allowed his instincts to pull out the nunchucks he had stolen—borrowed—and spun them around. More than impressed that it canceled the flame out, he was standing now alert with wide eyes and adrenaline making him bounce.

“Ha ha! I put out your fires like a beast, kitsune!” Michelangelo rode out his high by shuffling his feet and twirling the human weapon around him until he tucked it underneath his arm. Those wide eyes of his never left the kitsune, nor the continual fright in its features.

“I won’t let you eat me!”

Michelangelo blinked. It spoke, and the voice was quite . . . feminine. A she-kitsune?

“Eat you?” Michelangelo blinked again. At that exact moment his stomach reminded him of its need for more sustenance other than berries. He placed his hand along his plastron and frowned. “I mean, yeah, I’m hungry, but I don’t eat kitsune.” He stuck out his tongue and shook his head in visual disgust. “That just isn’t in a kappa diet.”

The kitsune looked surprised. “Then why are you here?”

Michelangelo shrugged. “I was avoiding my brothers, but then I got hungry. I found some berries, ate them and then I heard you and found you here.” He pointed to the paw. “Doesn’t that hurt? How long have you even been here? Where are your friends? They’ve got to be worried.”

The kitsune hissed as she sat at a different angle to alleviate the stress on her leg. Most of her weight leaned back on too thin arms. “I was patrolling and then I stepped on this. I haven’t managed to get it off me since.”

Michelangelo grimaced. There he was complaining about getting something other than berries, when it was obvious this kitsune hadn’t even had that for a long, long time. That just wasn’t right, especially when those sort of traps were human. He loved April and all, but her people could be so cruel.

“Now leave me!”

It was strange that she pushed him away, her only chance for help. Instead she curled in on herself, as if she wanted to wait there like that and die.

Crossing his arms, Michelangelo pushed his hunger aside. “No.” He moved closer, keeping his eyes on her even as she made the air around her ripple with heat. A threat, weak, but a threat. Michelangelo was prepared for another kitsunebi, but as he examined the trap he remained unharmed. “I might have to pry it back. I can do it, but . . .” He looked at her. “It’ll hurt.”

She said nothing, but as soon as she closed her eyes, Michelangelo could tell she was preparing herself. So he took hold of the rusted metal and then pulled as hard as he could. She let out cries that shook him. He’s never heard Kitsune cry like that, never really heard them make any noise really.

“Stop! Stop! Please, it hurts!” She was crying, her hands coming to his as if trying to pry his fingers off the trap.

“I can’t,” Michelangelo said, his grasp already strained with the force of the spring. “If I let go it’s just going to go back in deeper. We’re almost there. Come on!”

Those clawed hands grasping his only clung instead of pulled. The kitsune ground her teeth, pointed and white. Prying the rusted metal from her flesh and bone tore what healed around it, but amidst all of the shaking, Michelangelo knew he had to keep pulling.

When the teeth were finally out of her leg, Michelangelo knew he had to get it to open wider so she could slip away, so he pulled out his weapon and pushed the wooden end in, angling it just right to push it open to the point the kitsune was able to roll away, after that Michelangelo let go and the trap snapped back, biting the flail in half.

“We did it! We did it! We—” As soon as Michelangelo turned back toward the kitsune and away from his fist pumping bounce his victorious smile fell. She was crouched on all fours, a snarl on her frail face. Her tail swayed in such a way that made Michelangelo wonder if it was what caused the air to ripple. He took a step back out of reflex, but he wouldn’t back away any further. “Really? You’re going to be like this after I saved you?”

That was when the kitsune teetered and fell over.

“Fox lady!” Michelangelo was haphazardly to her side, laying helping hands on her. He tried to get her to stand but she only inhaled pained yelps, so he sat her down and then sat beside her. “You’re going to need someone to look at that.” He tried not to flinch at the sight of it, but even when it was in the trap it looked back, outside and bare to the elements it looked grotesque. “You got any friends close by?”

She gave him a look. “You want to go find them?”

Silence helped Michelangelo realize the wrongs in a kappa going to other kitsune for help. He mentally smacked himself for his naivety, and then began to formulate another plan. “Oh!” Michelangelo looked at her and stood, waving her to stay—as if she’d move anywhere. “Stay right there. I’ll be right back!”

Even though he knew her wounds kept her there, when he returned and found her still seated against a tree he liked to believe she had waited for him. As he approached her he held out his hands. Both full of berries.

“Take some. The more you eat the more strength you’ll get back.”

Michelangelo let her have all he had harvested. He sat a little ways away to give her the space she likely wanted, but his eyes never left her nor the way she inhaled the fruit. In the end, her paws and muzzle was stained with the juices.

“I’ll bet you haven’t eaten in a while.” Michelangelo pat his thighs and shrugged. “I would have gotten you some fish, but there’s no lakes or rivers nearby. Just a lot of burnt plain.” He looked around. While there was greenery around them he remembered the acres of ash. “Maybe that makes you feel more at home.”

Sustained by the flesh of the berries and quenched in their juices, the kitsune let out a sigh. She closed her eyes and leaned her tension against the tree. A moment later she opened her eyes and set them on Michelangelo.

“Kitsune did not burn those fields.”

Michelangelo blinked. “What?”

The kitsune looked down, paws lightly grazing over her wounded leg. “They were full of barley once. And then the humans burned it all down.” She sighed. Michelangelo could see she was still shaking from the pain she was in. “I chased the ones who did it, but I was too blinded by my anger to notice their traps. It’s been many moons since I saw another living soul.” She paused for a moment, her eyes focusing on him. “Why did you help me?”

Michelangelo rolled his shoulders again. “Because I wanted to.”

A furry brow rose. “Because you _wanted_ to? I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay, even my brothers don’t know why I do things, but I do ‘em and then they’re done.” Simple as that. At least Michelangelo thought it was a decent explanation.

The kitsune never lost her quizzical look, but she relented her interrogation. Instead she said—

“Alopex.”

“Hm?”

“It’s my name.”

Michelangelo blinked. “It’s a strange one. Mine’s Michelangelo.”

Alopex’s face scrunched. “You claim my name strange? I’ve never heard of a kappa calling himself that.”

“Well, now you have. You’re welcome.” Michelangelo looked pretty proud of himself and his name as he crossed his arms and grinned. At least it ended the kitsune’s comments about his name. Instead she straighten herself, cupping her hands and leaning down in a bow. Michelangelo had a kitsune actually bowing to him. This day was something else.

“You have saved my life. For that honor, so too will I give you an honor upon your life.” She looked at him. She looked quite serious.

“An honor?” Michelangelo sat upright, waving her and her idea of such an extreme repayment away. “No, no. I didn’t do this to get something in return.”

“Please,” Alopex said. “Allow this to me so that I will not carry shame on me or my family. Whatever you will, me and my family will repay you. This I promise.” She then leaned back and turned her snout into the air. She let out a call, similar but not so similar to the wolves. It made Michelangelo shutter, especially when a chorus of other howls joined in. And they all seemed so surreally close. “Goodbye, Michelangelo. We will meet again.”

She sighed as she laid herself down and closed her eyes as if to sleep. Michelangelo didn’t want to leave her but he knew she wouldn’t be alone for long. She was strong enough to keep calling and soon enough someone would find her.

Michelangelo stood and waved. “I hope so.”

He ran the rest of the way home only to find strife. He hadn’t even entered their hut when he heard the noise coming from inside.

“Raph, what’s the matter with Donnie?” Leonardo sounded agitated.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask ‘im? He isn’t talking to me!” Michelangelo could just picture Raphael throwing his hands in the air.

“Does this have something to do with where you two went today?”

Raphael snorted. That was when Michelangelo poked his head above the sill just to see what was happening inside. He wanted to try and dash for his nest, but he knew his two big brothers would likely catch him, even if they were focused on their heated tiff.

“We were out minding our own. Where were you, huh? You came in swaying. Here you are getting on us when we manage to get a hold of something strong, but it’s perfectly okay for you to.”

“Junpei and the others came and invited me for some drinks. They would have invited you guys as well had you gone to the gathering.”

Michelangelo pursed his lips. Junpei had come? He hadn’t seen that old turt and the others in a while. He wondered how they were. And they let Leonardo have drinks with them? Uh! Lucky.

“Yeah, lucky Leo. Whatever, you can play suiko all you want, just play it somewhere else. I’m tired. I’m tired of you, I’m tired of Donnie. Just give me some space.”

Michelangelo watched Raphael’s shoulders slump. Despite his usual wordy attitude he looked sad. He moved into his room and didn’t so much as break something. Just simply crawled into his nest and settled down.

Turning his eyes, he watched Leonardo stand there for a moment before he moved. He could see it now. There was a little sway in his steps. It was pretty funny.

When Leonardo looked up into his nest, Michelangelo felt his stomach clench. It was late, sure, but what if he tries to go off looking for him? Then he turns toward the window. In a flash, Michelangelo dunked, pressed up against the wall holding his breath as he hears Leonardo look out.

“Where are you this time, Mikey?” He hears Leonardo sigh and retreat back inside. Only then did Michelangelo release his breath.

He waited until he was sure the others were sleeping when he crept inside. Sure the ladder to the loft where his nest lay made the usual creaks as he hopped up it, but he was finally home and the light snores signaled he had successfully gotten home without detection.

Wait, there was only a pair of snores.

Clinging onto the side of his nest, Michelangelo looked down level to the room right beneath his. Even in the dark he could see Donatello. He was in his nest, lounging. Those golden eyes of his were open and focused on something in his hand.

“It’s late, bro,” Michelangelo said. His sudden words seemed to startle his brother who jerked and then pushed whatever had been in his hand into his shell. Maybe it was some sort of talisman stringed into a necklace?

Donatello looked up at him. “What are you doing still up?”

Michelangelo giggled. Did Donatello not even notice him come in? Was he that out of it? Wow, that’s a rarity.

“A lot of things happened today,” Michelangelo said with a shrug. “Hard to just let it all go and sleep, you know?”

Donatello nodded. It was easy to see his mind wasn’t at all there. Michelangelo wondered where exactly he was. He didn’t know the way his mind worked, but he knew the places he went in his head.

Not once did Donatello question the earlier incident when they ran into each other on the ship. Well, if he wasn’t going to bring it up then Michelangelo certainly wouldn’t. Roaming eyes eventually glanced toward the window and widened.

“Donnie!” Michelangelo was slipping out of his nest, tapping his brother. “Look!” Before his disoriented brother could even give a proper reaction, Michelangelo was rushing toward Leonardo and Raphael’s nests. “Leo, Raph, wake up, wake up!”

“Mmm, Mikey?” Leonardo was rubbing his head. “What are you shouting about?”

Raphael was more quiet but just as curious, especially when Michelangelo pushed them outside into the cold night and looked up.

“It’s snowing!” Michelangelo was all grins. It wasn’t anything he hasn’t seen before, but there was just something about the frosted rain that excited him and let him know the days ahead were going to be magical and filled with fun and memorable times.

. . .

It was a cold morning when the ships came in. On the docks next to April stood her uncle who looked on with professionalism. While he had been close friends with Van Valkenburgh before the man took on role as US ambassador to Japan, he still had to watch him relinquish his title to Mr. DeLong who had just arrived with his family and a fresh crew of officers.

First down the ramp bound two young children who were squealing and grinning, no doubt excited to finally be off the ship they were confined to for weeks. The sight of them was endearing to all there, especially when many haven’t seen children of European descent in some time. All wide eyed and curly golden hair, they happened to catch April by her dress, circle around and then swing back toward the ship where they ran into their huffing mother.

She looked at April. “I am so sorry. They’ve been cooped up for so long.” She was shaking her head, her arms wound around her little ones as they tugged on her skirt, bouncing as they did so. “Elida DeLong.” She held out her hand to April who smiled in return and shook it.

“April O’Neil.”

Elida nodded, looking toward Augustus who was greeting her husband Charles DeLong. “You must be Mr. O’Neil’s niece I’ve heard so much about.” Her eyes sparkled with avid interest. “I’ve seen some of your work back in the States. Marvelous.”

April blinked. “You have?”

Elida nodded. “In D.C. they have a gallery for Japan and a few of your pieces are set up as examples for the landscape and people. You must be proud.”

April stood in shock for a moment. “I am now that I’m aware of that. Wow, I didn’t think my sold art would go to the capital.”

Elida smiled. “I think a trip’s in your future. No doubt a little homesick anyways from how long you’ve been here.”

Sure, April missed home, and she missed her parents and siblings, but she couldn’t deny she was having the time of her life in Japan. She had her health, she had her youth, her art was finally getting recognition through the hot topics of the world, and she’s finally made friends—some of the best friends she’s ever had. Leaving any time soon wasn’t anywhere near April’s not-so-distant future. She hoped to stay for as long as she could, and with her uncle’s position shifting from one ambassador to another, April knew she’d have a means and an excuse to spend a good quantity of years on the island.

In fact whilst her uncle greeted the new ambassador and showed him and his family around their field of operations, it gave April the perfect opportunity to excuse herself, grab a warmer coat, and head out to the meeting spot.

It was the middle of November and the early snows that came late October persisted. It was a clear day and the sun was bright, just not warm enough to melt all of the ice and white piles. So April found herself quite frozen and reluctant to even touch her pencil in an attempt to sketch anything. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking or her teeth chattering. Yet even as she sat in the cold, the brothers played around her as if they were unaffected by the low temperatures.

The pools were frozen, and the boys took delight in skating around and even sporting on top of them with one another. Michelangelo actually had some of the best footwork out of all of them, and easily managed to win the game of what looked something akin to rugby. April wondered if it was the constant activity that kept the kappa warm, because while their makeup favored something more reptilian, particularly turtle, they weren’t showing to be cold blooded in the slightest. Just another thing that reminded April that they weren’t simple beasts and animals, they were a race all their own.

“You doing okay, April?” Michelangelo came close and tugged on her coat, more so to examine it. “Ever since you put on that you won’t stop shaking. Something got you scared?”

April huffed out a very visible breath. “I’m wearing all of this because I’m cold,” she explained. “How on earth are you four not?”

“We’re swimmers,” Michelangelo explained. “Hot, cold; our bodies can take whatever temperatures the waters are.”

“In turn we can brave the elements above water,” Donatello added himself in. In fact it was him who reached out to brush against April’s woolen sleeve. “With humans being so fragile, short-lived, and having no natural bodily protection I’m amazed your clan hasn’t died off ages ago.”

“Yeah.” Michelangelo nodded. “Hey, you guys remember the blizzard of ’87? Even I felt that cold. Surprised the humans even survived that whole ordeal.”

April rose a brow. “’87? What are you guys talking about?” The year was still 1869, as far as she remembered. Unless they were talking about . . .

“1687,” Donatello answered casually.

Despite the cold, even April stopped shaking at the answer. “1687? You guys remember the seventeenth century?”

“Of course,” Leonardo said.

It was then April remembered that she never did ask their ages. “Just how old are you four?”

“Come next year we’ll be five hundred and sixty and nine,” Donatello said.

April still hadn’t let the elements shake her. Her eyes were wide and her mind trying to wrap around the concept that the four kappa were around when her great-great-great-grandparents were alive. They certainly didn’t act like they were a couple centuries old.

“How long do kappa tend to live?” April asked.

“Mother’s almost ten thousand years old,” Michelangelo piped up.

“Mother?” April questioned. In the months she’s known the brothers, they’ve never really mentioned their parents.

“Don’t get any bright ideas, she’s not our mother,” Raphael spoke up with arms crossed. There was a mean look on his face. Not at all affectionate toward this mentioned person. “She’s just an old hag who’s lived long enough that everyone calls her that.”

“But she is our great grandmother,” Michelangelo said. “So, we are family, but I don’t think she ever really liked us. Not many people do, actually.”

April couldn’t imagine these four open and tender-hearted kappa being looked down on by their peers. While she didn’t know or understand the social structure of the kappa culture, she found it hard to believe the brothers would do anything to warrant such uncouth opinions.

“Why?” April was looking into each of their faces. From their expressions, she found no lies in what they were telling her. “Is it because of Mother?”

“It’s because we’re orphans,” Leonardo finally said. April looked at him. “Our father was a Suiko, it’s a leader of a town or city. And they’re the ones called in when our clans clash. We were still quite young when it happened, but I do remember that it was a battle against the humans. Our father never came home and our mother died some time later of grief. But, unlike human young who are vulnerable during such an early age, us kappa can pretty much fend for ourselves since hatching. We helped raise each other, but in kappa society normality comes from the way your parents rear you and since ours didn’t, we’re the abnormalities.”

April’s heart clenched in her chest for them. She couldn’t imagine growing up without her parents and having to fend for herself and her siblings through the years. Then to hear that parentless young were looked down on their society was an absolute shame.

“Well . . .” Even with all the sad details, April found herself smiling at the boys. “Maybe you four wouldn’t be who you are today if you were raised like the others. Maybe you wouldn’t be open to being friends with a human like me.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Michelangelo laughed even as he leaned against her and wound his arms around April. “But you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us!”

April couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering anymore. Especially when Michelangelo pressed his cold body to hers.

“Oh, wow, you’re pretty cold.” Michelangelo’s eyes widened even as he turned to look at his brethren. “You guys! How about we take her to the Kawabata onsen? That would definitely warm her up.”

“You outta your mind?” Raphael was swatting his brother just for the idea. “Like that isn’t a hotspot for other kappa.”

Michelangelo dunked his head for a moment, but still persisted. “But it’s such a cool spring, and it’s nice and warm.”

“I agree with Raph,” Leonardo said with a cross-armed look. “It’s a popular destination for many of our kind. We can’t just bring a human there. It just wouldn’t be safe for April.”

“Yeah, but what if we went at night?” Michelangelo nodded. “Like _really_ late at night. Plus, by sundown everyone’s usually back in whatever town or city they came from before the gates are closed. By the time we get there, they’ll all be nestled back in their nests. Whadaya say?”

“That curfew goes for us too,” Donatello reminded.

Michelangelo snorted, leaning over to pat his brother on the shoulder with an easy fist. “And when do we ever follow that?”

Michelangelo’s grin was contagious, and his idea caught on soon enough with his brothers.

Apparently these hot springs were deep in kappa territory and the journey there and back would take more than a day. With that knowledge April had no choice but to tell her uncle that she’d be staying over at Karai’s for the weekend. Since she was seemingly the only friend August O’Neil perceived his niece to have he allowed it, and off April went into the wiles of a territory few humans have traversed.

The brothers were courteous; they waited when April lagged behind, they crowded her to shield her from the cold winds, and eventually they began taking turns carrying her so that her soaked boots wouldn’t freeze her feet off. By the time they reached the springs, the moon was high and full, and the warmth radiating off of the waters made April swoon with the idea of delving into them. She was absolutely frigid.

“Mikey, go check and see if it’s clear,” Leonardo said, nodding toward the springs up ahead.

Michelangelo immediately began to whine. “Uh, why me? Why not Raph or Donnie, or you? Why can’t you go?”

“Because you’re better at making up getaway excuses should there be a night patrol. Now go.” The push from Leonardo was all it took to get the youngest kappa to comply.

Given their size and weight, April expected the boys to be loud in step and movement, but they weren’t. They were quiet, and not a sound was heard as Michelangelo slunk closer to the springs and began checking them out as well as the perimeter. She wondered if the boys had taught themselves such skilled discreteness or if it was a shared trait amongst all their kind.

“All clear!” Michelangelo came back with open arms and a wide grin. He looked at April. “April, you’re about to have the time of your life!”

The Kawabata onsen was large; the slopes of falls tall, pools dotted out for as far as the eye could see, and steam rose into the night air warding away the chill of the snow around them and the wintery season upon them. What made April lean in were the colors. Each pool was a different color and the walls fell in shades of their own. She didn’t know if it was dye or some sort of lingering salt, but she absolutely loved the vividness of it all and with her body finally warming up she itched to paint the place.

Alas she hadn’t thought to bring her art case with her. The prospect of a long trek through the snow and forest was enough of a deterrent to have her leave most of her belongings at home while taking bundles of furred blankets and wool coats. Perhaps there’d be a second visit in the future. If so she’d be prepared.

“Come on, April!”

Snapping out of her thoughts, April moved along and set her eyes upon Michelangelo who had somehow climbed to the very top of the lavender falls. From his distance it would be hard to hear him, but the kappa was the loudest out of his brothers, and his echoing exclamation was well received by all of them.

“I bid you welcome to the Kawabata onsen, BUT as I like to call it—the kowabunga springs!” And off Michelangelo went, twirling into the air and then down into the pools. The stretch of the splash flung droplets of purple into the air, drizzling into other colored springs and creating a tie dye of liquid. By the time Michelangelo popped his head above the water he was thrusting his fists into the air, bobbing in the water. “Awesome! Come on! The water’s great!”

Judging from the steam rising off of Michelangelo’s green skin, that was all the enticing April needed. With a wide grin she threw off the fur wrapped around her and dashed for the closest pool. It was shallow and yellow. In an instant her boots came off and cold toes dipped into the waters.

Eyes closed and head lulling back, April found herself in pure bliss. Sitting down on the lip of the spring, she held her skirt up, and simply relaxed.

“Ah! Leo!” April turned at the burst of noise to see Donatello washed in indigo. There was Leonardo, rushing past him with a teasing smile on his face. “You were asking for it with that bad footing of yours!” And then off he ran to the deeper pools, a seeming race with Raphael who was also headed in that direction.

The wading Michelangelo took notice of the end tail of the race as he pulled himself out of a back float and waved his hands in the air. Eyes wide on both oncoming brothers. “Wait, wait, WAIT!”

Leonardo and Raphael jumped at the same time, both projecting straight into the pools, ignoring the presence of their youngest brother. Their combined collision painted the skies and made April laugh, especially with the end result revealing all three unharmed and now in the throes of wrestling one another.

The energy and heat of it all made April remember the many layers she still had on. Feeling her sweat trickle down, April began to unbutton her blouse and loosen her skirt. Shameless as it was to undress in front of others and reveal the likes of her underdress to the world, right then the world wasn’t watching and who was wasn’t necessarily human so she doubted the skin of her arms and breasts would affect them much.

“It’s red again.”

April had just folded her blouse and skirt and set them on a dryer patch of rock when she turned to see Donatello sitting at a nearby pool. He was the only one yet to join in the ramble of his other brothers. As soon as she looked at him, she noticed those brown of his were looking at her hair.

“Oh, yeah.” Her hands came up to grab a hold of her wind-tussled locks. “These cold days have made me slothful.” She chuckled. “And I’ve been wearing a hood more often so I figured I wouldn’t have to dye as much.” With a shrug, April accepted it and looked at Donatello with a smile. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Donatello’s eyelids fluttered for a moment until he looked away as if bashful about something. “I don’t.” It took a full moment before he managed to turn his eyes back toward her. “I’ve always liked the color.” He looked away again, this time toward his brothers. “You know, if you want, there are deeper pools over there. There’s even crevices underneath full of passageways and pockets.”

April nodded, resting her chin in her hand. “I take it this is one of your guys’ favorite spots.”

Donatello smiled and nodded. “When it’s not so crowded we like to come and explore. It’s so vast I don’t think we’ve yet to swim through all of the passages.”

“Even after five hundred years?” April still found herself scratching her head at that notion. “Donnie, I’ve got a question.” The kappa turned himself more toward her, ready to provide whatever answer she was looking for. All bashfulness gone. “Do all kappa your age . . . act the way you four do?” April could see Donatello mull her question over. He bobbed his head for a moment before rolling his shoulders.

“I suppose. Every kappa has a different level of maturity.” He snickered as he nodded toward his brothers. “Like Mikey; we were all hatched in the same klutch, but he’s often in the rambles of two centuries. Leo likes to act like the adults, and succeeds at times, but he often succumbs to the true nature of his age. Raph is most notably in the category of others our age.” Donatello straightened then, pulling onto a strap slung over his shoulder and shell. His smile was more confident and his eyes beamed with pride. “I am often miscategorized with the adults because of my intellect and maturity.”

“The adults . . .” April was slowly comprehending just what kappa aging was like. “So then you’re still kids then?”

Her conclusion seemed to pull the rise out of Donatello’s plastron, but he recovered from the innocent blow and nodded. “Adolescents,” he said. “Full maturity is reached at a millennium. We’re over halfway there.”

Wow, and here April was already thrown back by their size and strength when they were just—teenagers really. Five hundred years old teenagers, but still youth nonetheless.

“Donnie! April!” Both turned to see Michelangelo now nestled atop Leonardo’s shoulders. He patted his plastron. “Who’s gonna challenge the champion?”

April laughed. Because it was all just so funny. They were over five hundred years old, they were five hundred and sixty-eight and yet wanted nothing more than play in the warm waters and wrestle. It was just so unreal and great. So much so that her smile persisted even as she tied her underdress into a knot on her thighs and situated herself on Donatello’s shoulders and took the opportunity to dethrone the champion.

Obviously Michelangelo was stronger than her, but he was pleasant enough to play with as they slapped one another and splashed away. Not that April could win, she did however manage to get a few good hits between the kappa’s eyes before she was sent tumbling down. Yet in her fall, Donatello never once let her slip from his shoulders, instead he teetered over with her and quickly pulled her up as soon as they fell into the water.

The waters were up to April’s hips and she was completely soaked. No more concern was put toward her messy hair or pale underdress. Instead she took part in the splash wars to come and then became a judge for the brothers’ wrestling.

The boys took turns. Stepping out of the pools they showed April kappan wrestling techniques. It all looked so painful the way they twisted their opponents and slammed them to the ground, but the brothers never hurt one another and only had big grins for their human guest who scored them on speed and effectivity. Naturally Raphael won.

“Okay, okay, okay! Now we’ve got to play hide and find!” Michelangelo turned to April. “And we’ll have April come find us.”

“Fine, but no hiding in the passages or pockets,” Raphael said. “There’s no way she can get to those.”

Michelangelo seemed upset at the new rule, but didn’t protest the further continuance to play the game. Instead April was getting to her feet and nodded. She turned from them and placed hands over her eyes.

“When I count to twenty I’ll come find you.”

“How about a hundred?” came Michelangelo’s inquiry.

“One.”

“Seventy?”

“Two.” April could hear shuffling, at least a few of the brothers were bounding off.

“Three thousand. At least give us three thousand.”

“Threeeee,” April was tempted to turn around and push the kappa to go and hide, but she persisted, hoping her resilience was enough to let him know she wouldn’t change her mind.

“Aw, come on. Not even a head start?”

“Four.”

“Fine, fine!”

Finally April heard the kappa dart off. She was alone, echoing her words into the night for the brothers to hear and prepare themselves for when she came looking for them. Though, to be fair, this was a big onsen and they could be anywhere.

Shrugging off the possibility that she may not be able to win this game, she continued her count until she shouted out, “Twenty!”

There wasn’t a soul in sight when April turned around and set her eyes on the scenery. The sound of trickling water and wafting steam was all that met her. So she walked along the colored pools, glancing into them, just in case.

She moved around the boulders, poking into the crevices in search of any one of the four. As had witnessed before, they made not a sound. But it didn’t deter her. She kept her smile while she skipped along, trudging into delightfully steaming waters and looking into the depths.

It had only been a little over ten minutes before April caught sight of one of them. They were in the pools just underneath the eastern falls.

Creeping along the rock formations, April tried to be as quiet as possible. Biting her lip to keep her excited noises at bay, she then jumped down into the waters and let the push of the falls propel her closer. As soon as she wound her arms around the shell she expected the surprised movement, but in the tussle of it all, she found strong arms winding around her, squeezing until her contained laughter bubbled out into pained gasps.

Eyes opened and stung, but stared on in horror as the figure holding onto her crossed her memory with no recognition. This wasn’t one of the brothers. The face looking back at her wasn’t Donatello’s, or Raphael’s, or Leonardo’s, or even Michelangelo’s. It was a kappa, one she’d never met, and it was holding onto her, not letting her surface.

There had been other kappa in the pools.

April let out a startled scream, even when she shouldn’t have to save her breath. She struggled, shoving her elbow and knees against the kappa’s plastron. Her nails dug into the arms tightening around her, trying to do what she could to cause any sort of pain so that the kappa would let go, so that it would let her breathe.

Her heart hammered when her body began instinctively inhaling after losing what breath it saved. She couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried and right then April believed she would drown. Drown, like so many of who claimed kappa victims. Dear God.

In all of the panic and struggle, April watched shapes approach. There were three more. April knew her life was forfeit when three other kappa approached. They would tear her to pieces, and then they’d scatter what was left of her at the bottom of these pools.

April felt their jostle as they came, as if struggling to get to her, to tear a piece of her for themselves. It was then she noticed how they fought with the one clinging to her, becoming violent to the point they forced him to let her go. Just as she was released they began to bump against each other, this miraculous diversion gave April the chance to try and swim to the surface, but just as she beat her arms and legs, she was grabbed again.

Looking down, that kappa had taken hold of the skirt of her swaying underdress. She hadn’t the strength to pull it out of the kappa’s grasp, and inhaled more water. That was when she felt another pair of arms wind around her and the harsh pull back had her garment slipping out of the kappa’s grasp. Now April was in the arms of another, another kappa who wanted to drown her.

The visage of it all began to fade as she hiccupped another breath of water. When a three-fingered hand pressed over her mouth, all April could do was bite down. Her teeth remained even as the water splashed all around them and echoed into the pocket they were now in.

“. . . pril! Ap . . .! April!”

Five good coughs helped purge her lungs of a good amount of the water she previous inhaled. But she was shaken, still trembling even as she regained her ability to scream and fight back.

“April!”

Her name echoed against the stone walls and rung in her ears. The voice made her frantic heart skip the quick pace it had itself on. Her wide eyes finally looked at the creature holding onto her and saw a familiar face. The arms around her weren’t squeezing to harm, but to hold above the water and protect.

It was Donatello. He looked just as frightened as her, but yet he wasn’t the one currently in tears, leaning her head down against his plastron and wailing out her fright. Clinging to him just as much as he was.

. . .

Unlike his brothers, Leonardo had hidden himself in a place where he knew it would be easy to find for April. From the spot he was crouched in he had constant visage of her, watching as she maneuvered around rocks and then peered into pools. She had been headed his way when the falls she walked beside caught her attention.

Leonardo watched as she leaned over and looked into the rippling waters. He then noticed the way she began stepping into the falls, scooting along the rocky ledge and bending over, as if she was ready to pounce onto something. Leonardo blinked in confusion. Did April believe she found one of them? He’d seen where his brothers went and he didn’t recall any of them going to the falls to hide.

She dove.

A mistake on April’s part, one he’d tease her about later. With gleaming eyes and a sharp grin, Leonardo couldn’t keep his laughter to himself and watched with anticipation for the redheaded human to pop back up with disappointment and embarrassment. His bubbling excitement for that moment began to fizzle when he realized she’d been in the water for longer than usual.

Though he’s seen April hold her breath for a good amount of time, it was few and far when she has. Her lungs were smaller than theirs, and she certainly wasn’t made for holding her breath for as long as necessary to stay in the water for that long. Something was wrong.

Tentatively, Leonardo moved away from his hiding spot. He still expected April to surface and catch him leaving, but while he moved closer toward the falls, none of that happened, so his wary steps turned into a walk and a moment later a jog, when he was half way to the falls he had broken out into a run.

“Raph, Donnie, Mikey! Get your shells out here! Something’s wrong with April!”

Even as Leonardo focused on the destination he closed in on, he sensed the presence of his approaching brothers. He could feel Raphael’s heavier form catching up alongside him, and then noticed Michelangelo breaking out further in pace just ahead of them. Donatello was the closest to the falls and dove in first while he and Raphael followed just behind Michelangelo.

The pool was deep and tinted scarlet. Leonardo broke for lead as he swam down, eyes focusing on every shape and movement around them. He didn’t need to alert his brothers to the form when he saw it, they were right beside him when they raced toward the disruption.

A kappa. There was a kappa in the water and he had a hold on April. She was struggling, losing breath.

Leonardo grit his teeth as he swam as fast as he could, cursing himself for waiting so long to rush in after her. April had seen the kappa in the water and thought it was one of them. She’d gone down to him without a care because she trusted that the brothers made sure the pools were clear. They should have been after the sunset curfew, but now Leonardo was bumping into the kappa with a threatening force, berating himself for not combing the place a second time, just to be sure for April.

When Raphael took hold of the kappa’s arm and pulled to shake his grip, Michelangelo was grabbing onto the legs. Leonardo came down from above, winding an arm around his neck and squeezing. Their appearance had startled the kappa who looked torn over who to devote his attention to—the human, or his three attackers.

In the end it was Michelangelo’s bite to the kappa’s ankle that made him release April. And oh the sight of her. She looked a moment from drowning. But there was still fight in her as her arms flapped and legs kicked.

None expected the kappa to shake them and reach out to grab April’s gown. The three were on him again soon after though. It was right then Donatello managed to maneuver around and catch a hold of April. His pull took her out of the kappa’s hold and then he swam off with her in his arms.

There was relief when they watched Donatello rush away. They knew he’d take her to a safe place where this kappa couldn’t find her. Yet while their hearts raced to know of her condition, they all found themselves still in struggle with the kappa until they broke surface.

“Get off me!” the kappa cried as he shrugged Raphael off of him and moved out of the pool. He glared as he turned, but the moment he set eyes on Leonardo and his brothers his upset expression washed over with vivid confusion. “What? What were you doing?”

Michelangelo was rubbing his jaw, having been kicked just there right before they all jumped out of the water. “What were _you_ doing?” He pointed back. “Here me and my brothers were: having a nightly swim, when we find you here. Aren’t you supposed to be back in your nest, curfew breaker!”

The kappa blinked. “No, that doesn’t—and why are you three here—you don’t understand, there was a human here. A _human_. I even had it!” He held up his hands as if to show them.

“Human? What human?” Raphael spoke up. He waved his arms around. “We’re nowhere near human territory. No chance one’ll even cross here. You’re crazy.”

“Crazy?” the kappa was wide-eyed. “But you three were there. You saw it! You! You three made me lose it!”

“Nah, we saw a deranged kappa struggling with himself. We were there to help,” Michelangelo excused. “You might have drowned if it wasn’t for us dragging you topside.”

That was when Leonardo recognized the kappa. “Soma? Why are you here in the springs this late?” This kappa was a Suiko over the Kawabata city of springs. His duty was to oversee this territory and its population. To find a Suiko you’d simply have to go into town, yet there this one was away from his duties, even breaking his own curfew laws.

Leonardo’s question seemed to shake the Suiko. It was odd, especially when it remained unanswered. Instead Michelangelo shifted beside him, and Leonardo noticed his attention on something falling out of the corner of his eye. As he glanced toward him he noticed that his brother was watching a dark feather fall, and when he looked up his curious face faded to wide eyes and pale features.

“TENGU!”

Immediately, every kappa jerked their heads upward to see Michelangelo’s cry had been true. There, just at the ledge of the falls, was the winged creatures. Their long beaks pointed toward them while their wings twitched and eyes glowed.

There were five of them, and they were large. For a moment, neither kappa nor tengu moved. But a twitch later and the feathered tengu came down upon the kappa.

Michelangelo was screaming along with Soma, but Soma had the reaction of twisting away and running for shelter. Leonardo and his brothers might have followed suit hadn’t Raphael let out a pained cry when one of the tengu swooped down and attempted to grab him by his plastron. It knocked the kappa back.

With the tengu on top of Raphael, Leonardo immediately dashed to his defense. Turning, he made sure his shell was frontal when he pushed and slammed himself against the beast atop his brother. The force was enough to knock the creature’s footing, but soon enough it turned and began snapping at him.

“Raph, get up!” Leonardo cried, his head down, away from that thrusting beak. He held out a hand and a moment later Raphael had taken it. As soon as he was to his feet, Leonardo’s blue eyes examined the large gash on his brother’s face, right above his upper lip. It was gaping and bleeding down his neck, staining his scratched plastron. Raphael will live from it, but it infuriated Leonardo to the point he grasped Raphael’s hand tighter, taking his other and letting out a cry as he swirled them both, using Raphael and the momentum in their swing to push his brother against the attacking tengu.

It let out a shriek at the collision and quickly fluttered away. Its retreat gave Leonardo and Raphael a moment of accomplished victory. That is until Michelangelo let out another cry.

“Leo! Raph! Help! HELP!”

Both turned to see their brother in the air. Two tengu had a hold of him, one had its talons around his leg, and the other clung to his shell. Michelangelo was clinging to a jutting rock, but his hold was slipping.

“Mikey!” Raphael called out. He was the first to reach him just as soon as Michelangelo had lost his grip. For a terrifying moment they were both in the air, but Raphael pulled his weight and forced the two tengu to descend lower than before. He caught himself atop the falls between the crossing rocks. There he found steady footing and began pulling Michelangelo back.

Leonardo watched from below, noticing the other three fly off and forsake the other two struggling with his brothers. It worried him that they were just gone, knowing that they likely flew off to terrorize others, but he had other things to focus on at the moment. There was Michelangelo, in the grasp of two tugging tengu while Raphael stood atop the falls haphazardly. Despite his strength, he was being pulled by the persistent beating wings, his ground was slipping that much more closer toward the fall’s cliff edge.

If Raphael was pulled any further, Leonardo knew he’d fall on the other side where there was no water. Nothing but jagged rocks.

“Raph!” Leonardo cried out as he dashed over, climbing the falls as efficiently and as quickly as he could. “Raph, stop!”

Teeth grit and eyes clenched, Raphael strained his muscles just to pull against the tengus’ force. He knew he was hurting Michelangelo, but he knew that the tengu would do far worse things if he didn’t keep hold of him.

“Raph!”

“Shut up, Leo!” Raph shouted. “I can’t just let him go!” That was when the wet surface moved against him. Raphael slipped. He slid until there was nothing else underneath his feet. The shock of his unbalance and suspension jerked Raphael’s hands away from Michelangelo and he gasped, looking into Michelangelo’s frightened eyes just as panic set into his own.

Leonardo slid on his plastron, hooking an arm on a tree stump and grapping a hold of Raphael’s ankle just as he descended. It was a rough catch, one that had Raphael swinging against the ledge and colliding with the cliff’s side. But he was in Leonardo’s grasp and he remained there as they both watched the tengu fly away with Michelangelo in their talons.

It took a couple of tries before Leonardo even managed to haul Raphael’s heavy form back up onto the ledge. No sooner had he that Raphael twitched back to life and swung at his brother. Leonardo struck the stony ground and bore Raphael’s pounding weight above him.

“Why’d you do that?! I had him, Leo! I had him, and you made me lose him!” There were tears in Raphael’s eyes even as mean fists shook Leonardo. “Why? WHY?!”

“Because I wasn’t going to lose you both!” Leonardo blinked his own stinging eyes. Michelangelo was gone. The tengu took him, and only a moment ago Raphael was on the verge of falling off the falls cliff edge. His heart was already shaken, right now he was just trying to keep it from shattering.

Raphael froze. His fist had reeled back to punch his brother again, but all strength behind it faded when he saw Leonardo’s tears.

“You were going to fall,” Leonardo said.

“So you chose me over Mikey . . .” Even Raphael’s accusation was weak, dying off with his oncoming sounds of dismay, but his glare wasn’t at all losing its sting. A look of hate flashed across his green eyes, but it was overtaken by grief as he leaned away and got off of his brother only to slink back down and press his face into his hands.

Raphael’s cries pierced into Leonardo. He ached and tried to keep his own wails of agony to himself. The few that slipped out were quiet as he twisted and stood up. From where he was he could see the dots of pools below. There was only one remaining figure. Soma.

Leonardo didn’t care if the kappa was larger than him, or if he was a suiko, as soon as he got down from the falls he took the kappa by the plastron and shook him. “What the shell are tengu doing here? Where are they going?” Soma was quiet, even as Leonardo persisted. “What kind of suiko are you to stand there and say nothing!”

“Leo.”

Leonardo twisted to find Raphael approaching him. He looked emotionally exhausted, but those dull eyes of his turned. “They went east. Towards town. You think they might . . .?”

Leonardo thought it was possible the tengu might attack the town, but with the suiko outside its walls, it was unlikely they’d be prepared for the sudden appearance of the tengu. Knowing there wasn’t going to be anything useful in staying, Leonardo shoved Soma away and turned toward his brother.

“We gotta get to town,” he said as he walked past Raphael. Raphael quickly fell in walk with him. “They might attack, especially if there’s klutches. And . . . if they do . . . we might get the chance to find Mikey.” He paused for a moment to look at Raphael and to tell him everything he needed to. He couldn’t do it verbally, but he hoped his brother could understand everything he was saying through every emotion pouring out of him right then.

In all of Raphael’s stubbornness, he was known to purposely ignore, but right then he was watching Leonardo and he was listening. As soon as he nodded, he fell behind him and the two of them raced toward town.

. . .

April really never stopped crying. The sobs faded into sniffles, and her trembles persisted. It was even hard to tell if her tears had ceased due to the water all around them. But Donatello tried all he could to ensure her that he was no threat and never would be.

They waded in the water underneath the cavern for the time it took for April to contain herself. And even as Donatello shifted, he knew she was still in no state to move forward. The way she twitched and tightened her embrace at the slightest movement let him know just how traumatized she had been.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly, feeling the texture of her wet hair rub against his jaw. April’s face laid against his neck. Her eyes were closed, but her lashes fluttered against his skin as did her trembling lips. “We should have . . . I should have made sure we were alone.” Donatello felt his heart hammer against his plastron at the memory of it all. That kappa had April, he had been trying to drown her. If his brothers hadn’t managed to get him to let her go then he didn’t know what would have happened. No, no he knew what would have happened and it would have . . . it would have devastated him.

At those dark thoughts, Donatello strengthened his grip around the human, trying to calm himself down in knowing she was there, she was breathing; she was alive in his arms. Given that this quelled his own turmoil, it set against April’s own calm. The constriction not coming off as protective to her but destructive, like the arms of the other kappa.

April’s eyes opened and she jerked back. She looked up at Donatello with a sharp gasp and then she began to cry again.

“I’m sorry,” Donatello said once more, immediately loosening his hold so not to frighten her further. “I’ll never hurt you like that, April. I want you to know that.” Not he or his brothers.

April said nothing. Her frightened gaze seemed to soften for a moment and then she leaned back in, pressing her face against the kappa’s neck and remaining there. Donatello allowed her this moment for as long as she wanted, knowing that his brothers had taken care of that kappa and thus entrusted him to take care of her.

When April finally began to calm down and fall limply against him, Donatello’s heart picked up. While he was still shaken from the incident earlier, there was something affecting him in such a way that it veered him from the panicked fright he had previously felt in his clenched gut. The tight abdominal coils that had almost made him sick faded to the tightness binding inside his chest. And it only tightened at the feel of April’s body leaning against him, especially how she laid her head underneath his jaw.

Even with the concerning pressure mounting in his chest, there was some sort of comfort right then, in their shared silence. The mounting concern for this internal abnormality was forgotten when Donatello realized how at peace he felt. As if the present moment was enough to erase all of the not-so-distant trauma.

Slowly, he tightened his embrace, testing April’s reaction to it. She didn’t move, instead she sighed against him, thusly encouraging Donatello to hold her tightly. She didn’t even say a word when his hand came up and fiddled with the red locks of her waving red hair.

It was unclear how much time had passed, and frankly, Donatello couldn’t care. If April was content to be there and be still, then so was he. But then she moved, pushing away gently to let him know she wanted him to loosen his hold. He did so.

“Are you alright, April?” Donatello tried to examine her with his eyes, tried to ensure she was well and healthy, but he wasn’t versed in the reactions of human physiology. He hoped the shade of her skin and brightness of her eyes meant well for her condition.

April nodded, blinking downward. Then those blue eyes wandered around, looking at the pocket they were nestled in, and the way the water reflected ripples along the smooth rock walls.

“Where . . .?”

“The onsen has many underwater passages, a lot end in pockets like these,” Donatello responded with an easy smile.

“We’re under the springs?” April’s wide eyes turned to the kappa.

Donatello nodded. “I took you here so that we wouldn’t be found.” He glanced around as if trying to measure the time they had already spent there. “I don’t think that kappa will come after us. It’s been a while, and if I know my brothers then he’s been taken care of.”

At the mention of the kappa who almost tried to end her life, April stiffened. Fear flashed across her eyes for a moment until she leaned back to relax her anxious muscles. Donatello didn’t protest her coming back to him at all.

“I’ve never . . .” April’s voice was soft, so low that it would be hard to hear, but in there, it all echoed and amplified. Donatello heard her perfectly. “That was the closest I’ve ever come to . . .”

“Drowning?”

“Dying.” April leaned back again. There was pain in her eyes when she met Donatello’s amber irises. “I was so scared. I thought it was one of you, but then he wouldn’t let me go and I thought . . . I thought . . .” The tears returned and in reaction, Donatello pulled her in tightly again.

“You’re safe,” he assured. He swore. “I’ll never let another kappa harm you. I’d rather die.”

April inhaled a shaking breath when she then asked, “I want to go back up.”

Donatello pulled back slightly to look at her. “You’re sure?”

April inhaled again. She looked worried. “Unless you think that kappa’s still out there.”

Donatello shook his head. “No, no. I know Leo, Raph, and Mikey already took care of him. But . . .” He looked down at the water they bobbed in. “It’s a ways until I can surface. You’ll have to hold your breath and hold onto me. I’m a fast swimmer, I can get us there, but you’ll need to be okay with going back into the water for a bit.”

That thought didn’t seem to set well with April. Donatello could see it on her paling face. But he also saw the need to stand on land, so he took her hands in his.

“I’ll get you back, I promise,” he said, squeezing her fingers so that she would look at him and know he meant what he said.

April waded for a moment before she nodded and shifted closer. She allowed Donatello to wind his arms around her again, and in the descent he signaled her to hold her breath. The moment they were under water he didn’t waste another moment. Pushing off of the wall, Donatello rushed out through the passage and took every twist and turn and dive until the scarlet waters of the larger pool the passage was connected to morph around them, and then he ascended.

The surface of the water broke all around them, and immediately Donatello pushed April toward the edge of the pool so that she could crawl out. She was gasping, shaking as her fingers dug into dirt and rock, but as she laid down and set her wide eyes up to the moon overhead, he could see that she was finally sated.

That was another moment he let April have. The quiet of the onsen was soul calming, and both were reluctant to break it. Though the calm and quiet was strange in part only because Donatello had been certain he’d meet the rushing faces and questions of his brothers the moment he brought April back. There was none of that. Even they were nowhere to be found.

“Where are the others?” Donatello turned at the question. April was sitting up, looking at him and then around. She too had noticed their absence.

“I don’t know.” Donatello stood up and wandered around for a bit to see if they were hiding anywhere, but there was nothing, not even the presence of the other kappa, which made Donatello think they were simply off dealing with him. “Wherever they are, I’m sure they have a good reason for being there.” He looked to April and noticed her picking up her dry clothes. Her face hadn’t changed much. “What’s wrong?”

April rolled her shoulders. She looked at him for a moment before looking away. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but, I just want to go back home.”

April wanted to return home? Donatello felt his spirit sink at her words. He and his brothers had so many plans with her, and it all began at the springs. After everything that had happened, she was frightened. Of course she’d want to return to her own nest.

After such a long trek, it would take time to get her back into human territory. Donatello could do it, but he didn’t know where his brothers were. There was no way of sending them a message. What would happen if they returned and the both of them were gone? They’d think something horrible happened.

Donatello sighed, trying to find the best outcome for the predicament they were in. Then, something crossed his mind. He approached April with that answer. “I can’t take you back, at least not that fast, and I don’t want the others to think something happened.” His response was already creating a storm in April’s eyes. He could see the aspect of not being able to return to her people slumping her frame. So, he clarified. “But I know a place where a human lives. It’s not too far from here. Just a little ways up into the mountains. I’ll carry you there.”

Maybe it wasn’t the answer April was looking for, but it was one she accepted with a quiet nod, and as soon as she had dried off and wound herself in her coats and blankets, Donatello took her up and raced towards the familiar destination. It was just before sunup when they came upon the homestead. April remained quiet as her curious eyes roamed over the structure of the house. It spread out a distance, careful around the trees clustered so close. Its yard was nothing but the woods it was nestled in. Snow and leaves cluttered the pointed roof, but the smoke rising out of the chimney looked inviting.

Approaching one of the doors, Donatello let April down gently. At least the porch had been cleared of the morning’s snowfall, a good sign that the occupant was active. April turned, looking at Donatello as he leaned away. Her questioning gaze was the last thing he’d remember as he rapped against the door and then dashed away.

Just as he dove into the bushes, he could have sworn he heard April call out to him, but the obvious sound of a door sliding open pulled all attention away from his departure. Donatello made sure it was him who answered. The old human he and his brothers have so fondly nicknamed, “the rat,” was looking at April with surprised eyes.

“Where have you come from?” He questioned and just then he turned his eyes outward. Donatello ducked. He swore he could feel that man’s eyes looking right at him, as if he knew he was there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Could he?

After spending so much time with them, April’s Japanese wasn’t as bad as it used to be, so she was easily able to respond to the rat’s question. “I-I’m not from around here. I’m actually just visiting, but I . . .” She sighed out a shaking breath. There was a glisten in her eyes. “I just need to be here.”

Worry rattled in the pit of Donatello’s stomach. What if the rat didn’t take April in? What if he refused her protection? He didn’t believe that would happen, but what if it did?

That moment of uncertainty dissipated when the rat nodded. He smiled and offered April a formal bow. “Hamato Yoshi welcomes you into his home and offers protection from the elements—as well as the affinities that linger outside. Come . . .?”

“Oh, April, April O’Neil.”

“April-san.” The rat, who called himself Yoshi smiled as he accepted April into his home, but his eyes continued to roam beyond as if he knew where Donatello was. But Donatello remained until the door was closed and the chatting voices faded into the belly of the house.

Now that he knew April was safe, it was time to go and find his brothers.

. . .

“Wake up! Wake up!” Leonardo and Raphael were running into Kawabata city. It was smaller than some towns, but larger than smaller towns. A decent size with a decent population. One that slept unaware of what was just overhead. “WAKE UP!”

“What business do you have stirring up this city?” groggy guards moved away from the inner gates. They looked at the two unfamiliar faces. “How did you even get in?”

“Hopped over,” Raphael said. “Now you gonna rally your task force or what? We got tengu problems.”

The kappas’ eyes widened at that. “Tengu?”

Just then the horrifying shrieks echoed overhead. Knees buckled and those who weren’t awake now were. The city came out into the night, wide eyes looking up in fright. There were three tengu, large and menacing, and they stooped on the arches overhead, looking down as if trying to decide which delectable dish they were going to pick into.

At the sight, every guard began shaking, eyes bulging and teeth chattering. “What are they doing here? We’re nowhere near their territory!”

“But you have neighbors who are.” They turned to Leonardo. “Have you heard from these villages and towns? Has anyone made contact, have family and friends there? Does anyone know if they even still exist?” The silence that he was met with was disturbing answer enough.

“They’re coming!” someone in the crowd cried. And sure enough the tengu swooped down. They did no damage but terrorize, only coming close to scare and scatter, but that was just what they wanted.

“Get everyone back inside!” Leonardo said, looking at the frightened citizens of all ages. “Especially the hatchlings.” He looked at the tallest guard, already knowing his higher rank. “Where’s the rest of your guard? Where’s the line?!”

The disoriented and shocked kappa eventually shook off their stupor, especially when Leonardo continued to hound them with these pitched demands. Whatever fright had once gripped them they ignored in favor of puffing themselves up to arch themselves over the adolescents.

“Who are you to demand these things, boy?”

“I don’t see your suiko anywhere.” Leonardo held his glare. He didn’t need to tell them where their leader was because they knew that during a moment of invasion or attack their suiko would be the first to rally their defenses. He had yet to make an appearance which meant the town was abandoned. They were on their own. And it was that shame that held the guards’ tongues.

“You just gonna stand there or do your job and defend this city?” Raphael was a menacing figure. Where Leonardo lacked the ability to look the adults in the eyes, Raphael was just large enough to do so. The stare down didn’t last long, and while there was reluctance in the guards to turn away in a show of defeat to the two younger kappa, they were in no position to challenge further. There were tengu in the air and they needed to round up the remainder of their defense.

Leonardo and Raphael did what they could while the warriors of the city were called into formation. They helped gather up the scattered citizens and push them into huts and stalls, barricading them in with what they could. In their last run-around they found themselves in the middle of the defenders’ stance.

That evening the lines formed without a suiko in sight. Rows of kappa pressed against one another, shell to the offenders; an impenetrable wall. Their presence disrupted the tengu and they circled, one even trying to dive and take one, but mature kappa were large and heavy and sturdy. The tengu failed in capturing one, however, in their failed frustration they began latching onto huts, hitting them, trying to get to the families stored inside.

Screams of fright echoed from the places of bombardment. The tengu were smart to attack the tallest homes first. Kappa, while large and nimble, were so only in water. It took them time to climb or to move from one point of the city to the other. Getting to the three separate places these tengu aimed at would take time. But as these residents screamed it was the two young foreign kappa who managed to climb onto the arches and swing their way toward the tengu.

Leonardo and Raphael grabbed these creatures by the beaks, pulling them down from digging into the homes. As soon as they brought them down the other kappa below closed around them and began crushing them. In frantic desperation, the two tengu screeched and slapped their wings. They would have not been able to escape hadn’t the third moved away from its damaged home and came down, attacking the kappa force, biting at heads and scratching with sharp talons.

In the kappa moment to defend their tender ligaments by reverting back into their shells, the two bruised tengu took the opportunity to leave. All three left without a single victim, but as they left, Leonardo raced toward the gates to learn which direction they fled.

“East, they’re still going east.” Climbing down, Leonardo met Raphael. He was panting from the repelled attack, but he knew his heart was pounding, not at all tired but ready to continue on in their chase and search. “Come on, we’ve got to keep up with them.”

With a nod, Raphael followed him. Leonardo and he had just made it to the gates when they heard the guards calling out to them.

“Where are you two going?” The kappa all looked at them. All wide eyes, some shaken with fright, while most shook with blatant victory over the creatures that had come at them to eat and destroy. “You can’t be following the tengu. There could be more!”

Leonardo huffed, refusing to let his racing blood slow, not when he needed this energy to carry him further. “They took our brother. We have to,” Leonardo said, his eyes turned to see the city’s populace slowing poking their heads out of windows, curious eyes roaming the area and skies to see if the danger had been warded away. When it was obvious and clear, those curious eyes beamed toward Leonardo and Raphael and did not move.

Where once there was indifferent annoyance spread across the guards’ faces, now there remained reluctant concern. They didn’t want the two to leave. “If they’re going to perch anywhere then it’ll be at the canyon,” one of the guards finally said, his tone sounding even reluctant to divulge the information. “It’s eastward, and I think you two should go that way if that’s what you want to do.”

Leonardo nodded and then offered a formal bow. “Thank you for the information. Please, keep everyone safe. Your suiko will eventually return.”

“As far as I’m concerned we don’t have one,” the other guard mentioned. He then bowed, the others following suit. “Despite your age, you two were good to this city and helped us defend it from a threat we were too ignorant to see. May you find your brother.”

Leonardo and Raphael hoped the same.

They ran the entire way. Maybe they would be exhausted by the end of it all, but Leonardo didn’t think that would be the case. He and Raphael kept up pace steadily, and as the trees faded away to a more rocky scenery, they quickened their steps. The only reason they stopped was because the terrain went upward, straight upward. They’d have to climb from there on out.

“Leo!” Raphael’s call had the older kappa looking over toward a hanging branch poking out along the cliff’s edge. There, between the leaves was a dark feather, larger than the usual fowl they were accustomed to. They hadn’t even gone out far from Kawabata city and the tengu were this close.

The howling of the wind whipping up around them almost imitated the shrieks of the creatures, however, it was this whirling that carried familiar notes to the brothers. Their ears perked at the sound of yelps in the distant, ones that sounded kappan in origin.

“That’s got to be Mikey!” Raphael was the first to grip rock and ascend the tall face of the cliff. Leonardo was close behind him.

The higher they climbed, the stronger the winds became. Grateful for their weight, the brothers were careful not to overreach themselves. They needed to make it to the top. Michelangelo needed them to get to the top.

The moment they pulled themselves over the ledge they came face to face with the tengu. It was all five of them this time. They hadn’t noticed the kappa at first, too intent on slamming their beaks down into the shell at their feet. A shell the two brothers knew since hatching.

“Mikey!” Raphael was the first to his feet and the first to rush in. His first run through had pushed a tengu off the other side of the ledge, but as he reared and attempted another charge, the remaining four flapped their large wings and strong gusts moved Raphael back to the point he teetered over.

“Raph!” Leonardo finally got to the top and pulled himself up. He rushed forward to catch his falling brother, losing one foot off the edge to push Raphael back onto stable ground.

The sound of their cries alerted the one in the shell. And as the tengu ceased their beatings, Michelangelo slowly pushed himself out of his protective armor. Wide eyes looked around and then settled on the frames of his two big brothers.

“Raph, Leo!” He was smiling at the visage of them. But his responding cries alerted the tengu and as soon as they turned, his smile fell.

Michelangelo had just enough time to revert back into his shell when one came upon him, talons wrapping around his shell, and then it flew into the air.

“No!” Leonardo watched the tengu then drop his brother. Racing over the other side of the cliff, he watched Michelangelo hit ledges, flipping and rolling until he found himself stuck against a protruding tree. His shell remained intact.

Teeth grit, Leonardo growled, turning to lunge at the tengu still hopping around. Instead of the typical kappa wrestling holds he instead lashed out with quick strikes from his palms and elbows, throwing swinging kicks in, catching the tengu off-guard with these non-kappan techniques. From Leonardo’s lead, Raphael soon followed and the strikes managed to push the feathered creatures back far enough to show the two brothers as threats instead of prey.

Leonardo and Raphael wouldn’t stop fighting, not until these monsters paid for what they did to their brother.

. . .

Donatello returned to the onsen, hoping to find his brothers, but once again they were nowhere to be found. Instead he found something else entirely. There were other kappa gathered around the springs. Many were dressed in robes of distinguish rank, like that of a city’s guard. Then, as Donatello came closer he realized there was one kappa placed in shackles.

“You have hereby been found guilty of shame and treason, Soma. Your suiko title has been revoked and we will take you before Mother for your final judgement.” Donatello heard the guards say. His curiosity pulled him closer and the moment he was noticed by the others, curious eyes turned upon him.

“Why be you here, young one?” One asked. “There are tengu in the air. Off to home you go.”

Donatello furrowed his brow. “Tengu? I’m actually out here looking for my bothers. Have you seen them?”

That was when a strange silence enveloped the company. Donatello felt eyes roam over him and examine meticulously before they began murmuring to the other. “He favors them. Do you think . . .?”

“Have you seen them?” Donatello asked again.

“If it be them, then yes, we have seen your brethren,” they told him. “The two saved many a life in our city, and we are indebted because of their valor.”

Donatello’s eyes shined. His brothers did what? Which two? “So they’re in the city?” His question was met with shaking heads.

“They headed east toward the canyon so that they could find their other brother,” another spoke up. “The one taken by the tengu.”

Donatello’s curious eyes widened. What did they just say? One of his brothers was taken by . . . _tengu_? Tengu?!

By the looks from the other kappa, those who were large and mature and seasoned, the fear in them worried Donatello. None showed any smidge of hope that his brothers would return. Why would they? What sane kappa goes hunting for tengu?

Their silence was their solemn condolences.

“You are welcome in the city if you need anything.”

“No.” Donatello blinked himself away from such gruesome thoughts. His eyes once dark with grief now hardened. He didn’t know for certain if his brothers were gone. They might still be alive. All of them. “No, I’m fine. I don’t need anything, I just . . .” He huffed out a shaking breath. And then inhaled his courage. “You said they went to the canyon in the east?” The other kappa nodded.

If that is where his brothers would be then he needed to be there too. So, without further word or even a polite farewell, Donatello turned and ran off. His eyes stung and chest burned the entire run. His mind raced and spun with so many possibilities that his heart tumbled inside his chest, frightened of what he’d find. Yet it was that same fright that spurred him forward until the tall jutting face of rocky terrain halted him.

The winds were harsh. A storm brewing in the skies made the once sunny morning swirl with dark clouds, all seemingly centering atop the cliff rising before Donatello. He would have gone around it to further pass into the canyons just ahead, but something upon a ledge stopped him in his tracks.

There, clinging to the rocks, moving slowly and carefully was a figure, one with a very familiar shell.

“Mikey!” Donatello’s call carried along with the wind and it was what spurred the clinging kappa to turn his head. There was Michelangelo, trying to descend the sharp drop, muscles tense and fingers digging in to hold his position, but he turned enough to set his eyes on his brother below.

He was too far up to hear him, but Donatello could see his brother trying to shout at him. It brought a smile of relief to his face, and that sting in his eyes returned worse than it had been before. But now worry arose as to where Leonardo and Raphael were. That worry didn’t last long when something large and covered in dark feathers swooped down and struck Michelangelo.

“MIKEY!” Donatello was running, his eyes strained on his brother’s form as the younger kappa tried fighting off his winged attacker the best he could whilst simultaneously trying to hold onto what surface he could.

Donatello instantly began his ascent. His and his brother’s constant training enabled them more agility than was common for kappa. He thanked all those seemingly wasteful days delving into human technique because now he was only a few meters from his distressed brother.

“Ah!” He could heard Michelangelo now. “Donnie! Donnie, watch out! This thing’s crazy!” Michelangelo was constantly popping his head back into his shell, but as soon as he did, the tengu would strike its beak at his arm and when Michelangelo would try pulling that away from harm then he risked losing all hold of the cliff.

“I’m coming, Mikey! Just hold on!” Donatello was reaching into his pack, pulling out rope and spikes. As quickly as he could, he slammed them into what openings he could in the rocks while he crawled up toward his brother. The moment he was able to reach out and latch onto his ankle, the tengu pushed down on Michelangelo and they fell.

The rush toward the bottom of the cliff ended prematurely when the rope Donatello wound around him pulled taught. But clinging onto Michelangelo’s weight, the spikes began slipping out. One, then two, and then three, until the fourth one held their entire weight combined. And there they hung, upside down with the best view to watch the circling tengu descend.

“He’s coming around again!” Michelangelo called out from below, waving his arms frantically as he pointed toward where the tengu dropped.

They were in no position to stop the creature from slamming into them. The collision broke the remaining hold of the spikes and down the both of them fell. However, premature to their drop to the ground the rope had saved them once again. Though not attached to any secure spike, it was surely wound around the tengu that had rammed into them and now struggled to fly.

“Hang on!” Donatello told his brother and then hoisted himself up, climbing the length of the rope until he was directly on top of the tengu. Using what length of rope remained, Donatello quickly began knotting the entirety of it, restricting the creature’s movement further.

Finally, they crashed.

The rough landing jostled all three of them. Michelangelo slid away the furthest, the first to his feet and the first to make a larger distance. Donatello had gotten trapped within his bindings and the moment the tengu shook off the landing it began to jerk around, sending him along with it.

When the tengu noticed Donatello’s proximity, it shot all of its anger toward him with aimed pecks, jutting wings, and stamping talons. Luckily, Donatello dunked when the sharp peak stabbed against his plastron, and twisted when the tengu’s sharp talons attempted to ensnare him.

Finally, Donatello shimmied his way back to his brother. He clung to him just as Michelangelo grasped him. “Are you alright? You okay, Mikey? Are you hurt? There’s chips off of your shell. What other damage did it do?” Donatello looked his brother down, twisting him to see every angle of the bruises and indents that he knew weren’t there a day ago. After realizing that Michelangelo was breathing, had all his limbs, and was just alive, Donatello threw his arms around him and held him close.

“Thanks for coming, D.” Donatello felt Michelangelo smiling against his neck. When he pulled away to look at him, there wasn’t an ounce of fear in those baby blue eyes any longer. “Though, I coulda handled him.” Donatello scoffed, giving his brother a good shove against his plastron for saying that. Michelangelo giggled, now it was his turn to look him over. “He got you a little too,” he said while flicking Donatello against the lip of his plastron.

Out of reflex Donatello moved to the damages pointed out. Some hurt slightly, but most he received against his shell luckily. However, when his fingers came the small chip against his plastron they went further, moving along his neck. It was bare.

Chest squeezing and heart hammering, Donatello’s wide eyes turned along with his twisting body. He looked back at the tangled tengu who still resisted the binds around it. Even at the genius of his handwork, Donatello felt a cold chill rush through him when he noticed his necklace caught in the beak of the tengu.

No, no, no, no, NO.

“Where you going, Donnie?” Donatello could hear Michelangelo and the worry rising in his tone, but he ignored it all, even his surprised cry when he rushed back after the tengu. “DONNIE!”

Donatello slid back toward the tengu just as it shook its wings free of the tangled rope, giving it enough leisure to flap and leap into the air. Donatello caught hold of one of the ropes and swung as he was lifted along with the mass of feathers. Even though his heart raced and pounded in his ears for him to let go and run back for cover, his limbs moved on their own and eyes focused on the piece that belonged to him, and that he sought right then and there to get back.

It was rough trying to hold on. The tengu’s wings were strong, as was the gusts it kicked up each time it beat its large wings. And it shook as it tried to dislodge itself from the feet of rope wound around it, all that Donatello was clinging to. His own weight wasn’t enough to bring it back down, and after he realized this he took to pulling at feathers.

In the books April had lent them, there were ones of animals, particularly birds. In those it referenced certain feathers that, when clipped, rendered birds flightless, and so Donatello attempted that same experiment on this creature. Though the tengu was no bird, it was still feathered with wings very similar to them.

The tengu let out shrieks after each handful of feathers tore off. It even turned its head and began ramming its beak toward Donatello, but as it did, and as Donatello did his best to twist and avoid the pointed tip, he also attempted to snatch his necklace back. When he finally pulled off the right lay of feathers the creature descended in a shrieking gasp, Donatello pushed himself forward and snapped the string lodged into the jaw of the tengu, taking back what was his.

When they fell to the ground they hit trees first and while the tengu remained tangled and stuck in the branches above, Donatello tumbled from branch to branch until he struck soil-covered roots.

“Donnie! Donnie!” Michelangelo had followed their plight and was at his brother’s side in an instant, hooking his hands underneath him and helping him sit up. “That was crazy! What on earth made you do all of that?”

Donatello sat there against the tree, catching his breath and listening to the wild rants of his safe and sound brother. His hand clenched around the piece that made him go back to the tengu. The simple lock of April’s red hair he had taken some time ago. It fascinated him and he wanted to keep a piece of it before the human went off blotting out its vibrant hue.

But as he sat there, as he clutched it close to his plastron, Donatello realized he had raced back toward a creature as dangerous as a tengu to take it back. As if his life meant nothing if the lock wasn’t present. He’d never been so reckless or ridiculously illogical like that that it all left him frightened just remembering what he had done.

“Mikey! Mikey where are you?” The voices of Raphael and Leonardo were distant, but their echoes from the canyon were enough to let their brothers know they were well.

“Over here, you guys!” Michelangelo moved away just a little, just enough to step out of the tree line and wave his arms. As soon as he was spotted he was in the arms of his worried brothers instantly.

“We thought you were dead!” Raphael cried, nearly crushing his brother.

Michelangelo huffed, but patted his worried sibling regardless, and the moment Raphael let go, Leonardo was there to take his place. “You guys scare the other ones off?”

Both older brothers stepped back with proud grins. “Shell yeah we did. I don’t think kappa will be on their menu for some time now.” Raphael and Leonardo gave a look of comradery to one another and then leaned over to bump shoulders.

“Leo, Raph, you guys shoulda seen Donnie!” Michelangelo waved them closer until he led them back to where their fourth brother still sat, catching his breath and wracking his frenzied brain.

“Donnie?” Leonardo leaned down and examined him. “What are you . . . did you . . .?”

“Oh yeah he did!” Michelangelo exclaimed. “It was wild! I was there, on the cliff, just trying to climb down but the tengu kept diving at me, and then there’s Donnie. He’s got his rope and when we fall it tangles the tengu so when we do hit the ground it’s all caught up. And then Donnie goes back at it and rips out its feathers making it crash into the trees. It was worthy of an epic this fat!”

Wide eyes look down at Donatello who just smiles sheepishly. There were no words to berate his foolish behavior because they’d all been a little foolish that day, and, wooo, they were glad that whole ordeal was over. How they managed it all was a mystery, but they were alive and they were together.

“I just got one question,” Michelangelo toted as he crossed his arms and set his eyes on Donatello. “Where’d you put April?”


	8. Picture Perfect

Leonardo let out a breath, twisting back into his crouched position alongside his brothers. He looked at them, each of their eyes meeting in understanding to the situation laid out before them. Even amidst the quiet snowfall, they each could feel the tension tightening.

“So, Donnie.” Raphael looks toward his younger brother. “You put April in the safest place any human can be, but fail to think of a way _we_ can get her out of the most dangerous place any kappa can be.”

Donatello opened his mouth. Always ready with an easy solution to any problem they encounter. This time, no words come out. He was as stumped as much as his brothers were.

“I wonder what they’re doing in there.” Michelangelo was the bravest out of all of them, sneaking closest to the home, raising his head until he could chance a peak through a window.

“Get down!” Leonardo was on top of his brother, pushing his head down so far that it bumped into his shell while he dragged him back into the brush where the others were hiding. “We can’t let him see us.”

A moment later Raphael blinked, arching up to take in another look of the home’s layout. Huffing out a cold breath he looked at his siblings with vibrant eyes. “But we need April to.” Three sets of eyes looked at him quizzically. “Instead of thinking about how to get her out of there, what if we think about a way to get her to come out?”

Leonardo nodded. “It’s the best we got. Who’s gonna do it?”

Looks were shared in silent question before the majority settled upon one brother. Michelangelo blinked and then his features fell.

“Aw, come on! I was just nabbed by a tengu AND almost eaten. Now you want me to go into the rat’s lair?”

Raphael rolled his eyes at the whine. “Cry me a river. You’re the smallest and lightest and the least likely to draw attention. Now get to it.”

Michelangelo looked to Donatello and even to Leonardo for support but the two remained quiet and compliant with Raphael’s suggestion. With a grumpy huff, Michelangelo moved away from his brothers toward the home. His first mission was trying to locate April by peering into every window he could. When he found no success he reluctantly began searching for a point of entry.

A small side door was where Michelangelo snuck in. Much to his dismay it slid open noisily. No matter how slowly and gently Michelangelo pulled, the door was intent on squeaking.

Rickety echoes bounced down hallways and rooms. Michelangelo remained wide-eyed and still. His heart hammered, pounding against his plastron and in his eardrums. His breathing hitched only because he was inside a human home, one belonging to a man he and his brothers had observed effective fighting techniques from. Just imagining what the man might do to him if he caught him put a fear in Michelangelo’s gut not felt since his tengu abduction.

But April was in there, somewhere. As safe as she might be being with one of her own clan, he knew that it was his and his brothers’ duty to return her home. So they had to find her and get her back. Somehow.

Michelangelo was usually quick and fast in movement and verbal endeavors, but he took his time in his exploration. Careful to watch his corners and any step he put down. Unfortunately the wood floorboards were just as neglected as the doors. No matter Michelangelo’s light pad, a creak bounded here and a groan there.

Michelangelo was so on edge he about fell off that proverbial cliff into sheer terror, but he held himself back because his brothers were counting on him to find April and bring her back. He couldn’t let them down. And he especially couldn’t let April down.

Amongst his hammering heart and thumping pulse, Michelangelo caught the muffled mutters of speech coming from the corner of the house. As quickly as he could, which wasn’t quick at all, he made his way closer. The voice he recognized. After nearly fifty years of observations, Michelangelo would be able to recognize the rat’s voice from any crowded room. He was talking, drawing really about tales of his youth. Amidst all of that he could hear attentive humming, the pitch of which Michelangelo recognized as April’s.

Taking a quiet breath, Michelangelo leaned himself around the corner, stretching his neck to peer into the room. There was a small table there, near it was a hearth nurturing a crackling fire. The light from the flames illuminated the two forms at the table, both grasping small teacups. An old man and a young woman with fiery locks.

There April was, sitting just across from the rat. She was staring at him with drooping eyes. Her form slouched from where she sat as if she were ready to lay down on top of the table and just go to sleep. Maybe she was, and maybe it was because of the way the rat drawled on like that.

Luckily, April happened to be facing the hall. Now all Michelangelo had to do was draw her attention.

Looking for something, Michelangelo’s eye caught on the sight of walking staff leaning against a counter. Reaching out, he took up the wooden object and used its length to lightly tap against the wall. Subtly, and far apart so not to alert the wrong human. There was worry April might not even notice, and that might have been true hadn’t she nearly nodded off and spilt her tea all over the table. Those wide embarrassed eyes of hers pushed weary boredom away and in the gasps and apologies and rising to try to stop the mess from spreading, April’s roaming eyes passed over Michelangelo. And then they returned and settled, widening further than before.

“I am so sorry,” April apologized, her eyes remaining on Michelangelo and his insistent motions to come to him. “Here, let me find something to clean this up.” She was standing, ready to move and leave, but the rat beat her to it.

“No, no, allow me,” he said as he set his own tea cup down and then stood and moved into the hall.

Michelangelo quickly moved back into the corner, clutching the staff closely to keep from moving. When he hadn’t been seen, when the human moved past him into the kitchen, Michelangelo moved to look back into the room, however April had met him halfway, turning the corner and nearly colliding into him.

“April!”

“Mikey!” April’s wide eyes blinked a few times, looking as if she was expecting to see the others. “What are you doing here?”

As quiet as April, Michelangelo replied, “Here to get you out. We’re all outside. Come on.” He reached down and took her by the wrist, tugging, moving as quickly as he could to get back outside. But in his rush he neglected the attention to the creaking floorboards. It was that consistent noise that allowed the rat to find them.

“How dare you.”

Michelangelo and April froze. When they turned they noticed the human standing in the hallway. In his hand he held a bunch of rags now clenched tightly in his fists. His face showed disdain and in his eyes was a rage that Michelangelo only ever knew as a hate for his kind.

The rat took a step closer. “You’re bold enough to set foot in my home and even dare to spirit away my guest. I will not allow this fearlessness to continue!” That was when the rat attacked.

Michelangelo let out a scream, but he did not let go of April. Instead he pulled her along, trying his best to dodge every thrusting fist and kicking foot. It wasn’t easy to keep hold of April whilst doing what he could in maneuvering, and so in a twist he let go and pushed her further.

“Go! Go!” Michelangelo bade. The moment he went to turn so as to not have his shell to the man he felt contact and the impact of it pushed him into the wall. In the crash he had toppled over figurines. They looked expensive, possibly even a family heirloom. Michelangelo was to his feet in an instant. “That wasn’t my fault!” He excused while wide eyes did their best to examine every form and anticipate what attack was going to be used next.

Surprised yet not so surprised by the sheer agility the old man had, Michelangelo looked to other means as a way of backing out of the house. Regretfully he tugged on tapestries, and pushed over furniture to deter the human from moving so amply after him, all the while apologizing as best he could. He really meant no threat, but the rat was already in full ninja-mode and it was getting harder and harder for Michelangelo to keep up.

As soon as Michelangelo found himself in the foyer, he threw caution to the wind and jumped through the doors. Paper ripped and wood broke around him. Michelangelo dunked his head to shield himself from the mayhem around him. He managed to fall down onto the porch, but when his movement halted the sound of approaching steps alerted him to the danger headed his way.

Michelangelo twisted, wide eyes watching the rat run towards him with determination. All Michelangelo could do before impact was cross his arms in position of defense. Yet, before any part of the human struck him he watched a large mass swing down from the roof and right then and there Raphael’s heavy frame pushed against the descending rat and the force of it all sent him crashing back into the house.

Finally, Michelangelo managed to let out a breath. “Hoo! Raph, you saved me!”

“After hearing all that ruckus inside, I had a feeling it was you.” Raphael pulled his little brother to his feet. “What were you even doing in there? You crazy?”

“I couldn’t see April so I had to go in,” Michelangelo explained, making a face at his brother. Glancing around, he looked for the subject of their conversation and noticed April’s fleeting form rushing over toward the bushes where tall shapes sprung out to greet her. Leonardo and Donatello. Michelangelo and Raphael were ready to do the same, but it was the younger who noticed something. Blinking, Michelangelo looked at Raphael. "You hear that?" Raphael rose a brow. "Kind of sounds like running . . ." Michelangelo's wide eyes were what saw the rat's return first. However it was Raphael's shell that felt the impact of the human's flying kick.

Despite the human's age and stature, he managed to knock someone as sturdy and solid as Raphael off his feet. But his stumble was corrected before he completely crushed Michelangelo in front of him. Twisting, Raphael shot his arms out in a series of blocks. Slicing palm and falling heel, Raphael managed to deflect it all.

The surprised look on the rat's face was priceless and it would forever be ingrained within Michelangelo and Raphael's minds, but Raphael's confidence quickly faded when the old man lunged again, this time with that walking staff in hand. It wacked the kappa against his head, it wasn't a hard strike but it diverted Raphael's attention just enough for the human to then jam his fingers into the tender parts of his neck.

"Ah!" Raphael jerked back, his hands coming up to rub at the numbness spreading along his neck. That was when the rat came forward again, this time jamming his digits into his defenseless sides and shoulders. Little by little Raphael's body went limp and eventually he fell to the ground.

Michelangelo stood there more amazed than he was rightly horrified. To see his large brother brought down by a series of seemingly simple touches infatuated the young kappa. Even as the rat turned to him and enacted the same set of moves, bringing him down next to Raphael, he gapped on in amazement.

"Raph! Mikey!" There came Leonardo and Donatello, faces full of worry and stances ready for a fight.

"Four of you?" The rat shifted, moving his walking staff in front of him like a bo. "Then you two shall join in their fate."

From where Michelangelo and Raphael lay they got the perfect view of the scene unfolding; there the rat was, twirling his walking staff, aiming to ram the ends and smack the sides into their brethren, but Leonardo and Donatello proved true in their own defenses, crossing arms, twisting away from descending strikes, all to block and dodge these attacks hurling their way. The moment the rat got a good swipe with his staff against Donatello's jaw, Leonardo jumped in to defend his fallen frame. It was easy to see he was trying to pry the stick out of the human's grasp, but despite his height and obvious age, the rat was strong. He held onto the staff until he pushed it forward, tapping its side for only a moment that it took for a blade to pop out of the end and spring forward. The tip of the blade nearly pierced Leonardo's neck, and hadn't he grabbed the rod he might have been impaled by it.

"Yamate! Yamate!" There came April, running in between, slapping away the bladed staff and pressing her back to Leonardo's plastron. A human shield. "Please stop!" She pleaded once again with wide eyes. "They're my friends. My friends."

Thank the spirits that the rat paused. Had he continued, who knew what kind of a position all four brothers would be in. But there he stood, eyes wide at April, especially as they shifted toward the kappa.

"Friends?" He questioned, keeping a good hold on his weapon.

April nodded quickly. "Yes, please. I meant no disrespect. They've come to take me home."

There was a quiet as the rat examined them and even April's trembling form. When he pulled his staff away and locked away the blade an air of relief phased through everyone present. But when scrutinizing eyes turned back toward the kappa, tension tempted to mount once more.

"You. You do not fight like kappa. You fight like—"

"Humans," Michelangelo commented from where he lay, a large grin full of pride on his lips.

The rat looked toward him, silent again, lost in thoughts until he muttered, "Like me." He turned back toward the ones still standing. Revelation flashed across his dark eyes. "You four. You've been the ones. The ones watching . . ."

Donatello blinked. "You knew we were there?"

The rat nodded. "I sensed you. I could feel your eyes, but I did not know that you were . . ."

"Not human," Michelangelo added once more with a shameless smile. "Guys, this is something else. I can't move a finger but I can like feel everything!"

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. "What did you do to them?"

The rat snorted. His posture more relaxed as if he no longer saw the boys as threats, as if it was that easy to shoo away a lifetime of prejudice. Was it?

With a wave of his hand he shifted his staff, leaning heavier on it. He looked old again. "Oh, nothing," he said. He then moved back toward his home, passing through the broken doorway. When he paused he turned his face to them. There was an odd smile on his lips. Teasing almost. "Something you would know had you not skipped last month's sessions." He turned back inside before he could see the gapping, but with another wave of his hand he welcomed them all to set foot in his home.

Raphael and Michelangelo were propped up near the table while Leonardo sat closest to them, April sitting beside him with Donatello on her other side. They watched with wondering eyes as the rat, who properly informed them of his given name while they in respect gave theirs in return, served them tea.

"What strange names." Yoshi made a face. "But they are better than you calling me rat."

"Uh, it was a code name," Donatello spoke up, quick to clarify so not to offend and make further enmity. "It was so none of us would slip and talk about a human we were watching around our people."

"Still, an odd nickname." Yoshi then let out a guttural laugh. "Ha! It reminds me of my pet rat when I was a boy. His name was Splinter. I had a lot of good times with him. How funny that is."

Leonardo's eyes never really left his paralyzed brothers. "How long will they be like this?" His eyes met Yoshi's then. Yoshi smiled again as he set a steaming cup of tea in front of Leonardo.

"Again, you would know the answer of that question had you paid attention."

Leonardo guffawed. "You say that like you intentionally taught us. We learned by after effect of your dojo."

Yoshi sighed. He sat down and kept to himself long enough to take in a deep drink of warm liquid. His face softened after that, eyes looming over the stretch of room and hall. "It has been some time since I have called this place a dojo, or taken on any student."

"What are you talking about?" Raphael was shaking his head. At least he was regaining some feeling. "We saw you through the doors. You were moving and talking. You had to be tutoring your pupils."

"It has been over thirty years since a student has last set foot in my dojo," Yoshi answered. "I have since retired."

"But if you don't teach anymore then why did you act like you were?" Raphael questioned further.

"Because I still had eyes on me." Yoshi smiled. "While I was unaware of just what lurked outside my home, in the presence of a heart yearning to learn, it would bring me dishonor if I refused it. So I continued to play the role of sensei."

“Does that mean we can call you sensei?” Michelangelo managed to lean forward, too far to where he simply slipped over. “Whoops, can someone help me out here?” Even though Leonardo was the closest and ready to help out in any way he could, it was April who took the opportunity to stand up and move over to him, helping situate him and Raphael a little better.

“Maybe Mr. Hamato doesn’t want to be bothered,” April mentioned. “He retired for a reason. That means he’s not taking on any more students.” She chuckled then. “Besides, whoever heard of a human teaching kappa?”

“Yes indeed.” They looked at Yoshi who was playing with his beard in thought and intrigue. “It is an odd notion, yet one that has unintentionally happened regardless. And I cannot find it in myself to reject it. If you four continue to use such techniques then I am faulted to hone them.”

“So you’re saying we _can_ call you sensei!” Michelangelo slipped over again. April caught him.

Yoshi nodded and then offered a formal bow. “You may, so long as you give me the honor of calling you my students.”

“Of course, sensei!” Michelangelo exclaimed, eyes sparkling and smile wide. His brothers shared in his amazement, all looking at each other with disbelief and excitement. For decades they’ve snuck away from kappa territory to observe a hermit who once tutored other humans in the art of their fluid fighting techniques. It was different as it was interesting, and now that they’ve learned it their souls yearned to learn more. It looked like they were getting that chance.

“And you.” Yoshi looked to April. “Your kind has been coming here for years. I believe there will be a permanent presence soon, but even in your different views and ways you’ve come to know the kappa like none of my people have.” When Yoshi looked at the brothers there was a light in his eyes, something that burned of ages old tradition, of typical rearing and prejudice. It remained not as a reminder to those seeing it, but to the man who had once harbored it. “I was born to fight beings like the kappa, the oni, the tengu, and the kitsune, any clan that threatened my own were to be extinguished without hesitation. It was an endless cycle, but one that has existed for thousands of years, and one I’m sure you four were aware existed.”

The kappa nodded. “The boundaries are still enforced,” Leonardo said.

Something softer flashed across Yoshi’s eyes then as he gazed at the four. “And yet you came to watch me instruct. I would warn that your curiosity has amplified your instinctual ignorance, but now that I see you, now that I have interacted with you, I can discern that it has only ever softened your hearts.” He turned to April again. “The consequence no doubt luring you into forming a friendship never before seen.”

“April’s amazing!” Michelangelo defended.

“She’s kind,” Donatello added.

“She doesn’t see us as monsters,” Raphael informed.

“She accepts us even for what we are,” Leonardo said.

April’s smile widened. Her hold on Michelangelo’s tilting frame tightened. “I know there’s a fear between the clans; I’ve seen the depicted art, I’ve heard the grim stories. I know there’s underlying hate, but when I came to Japan the only hate I received was from people like me.” She rubbed her head against Michelangelo’s shoulder, her eyes soft as she looked at the brothers. “They were the only ones to look past my western features and call me friend. It’s because of that that I can’t believe this struggle of clans has effected everyone. I just can’t.”

Her affection and words moved Hamato Yoshi, pushing him further from the way of his people. Surely he was the first to behold such companionship. And yet even at its oddity it was a beautiful and hopeful sight his old soul has ever seen. He smiled on in acceptance. Times were changing for their country, and secretly, for their clans.

“It is a shame you have been so scorned by my people, April O’Neil-san.” Yoshi stood, taking up the empty tea cups. “I believe your purpose here is more than just familial visitation. One day, we’ll all discover just what it is.”

When Yoshi went to clean up he returned to find Leonardo and Donatello sliding Raphael away from where he was sat up. And April was helping Michelangelo lean against her while she also shifted him.

“What are you doing?”

They all looked at the old man. “It’s getting late,” Donatello stated. Indeed it was. It was almost time to light the candles and put more wood in the hearth.

“We need to go before the sun sets,” Leonardo said.

Yoshi approached closer, shaking his head. “You expect to go out into the night amongst akuma with your brothers still immobile and a human in tow?” He huffed out a heavy breath. Arms crossed. “It is obvious none of you have retained much of my teachings. You will stay here for the night. They will regain feeling by morning, after which I can organize some essentials for you on your way back home.”

Usually, after an offer of shelter was provided, those being offered in turn spouted thanks, however the kappa remained silent and staring. Even April’s curious eyes made Yoshi blink in confusion.

“Why are you all staring at me like that?”

“You’re going to let kappa stay here? With you? In your own home?” Leonardo looked as hesitant as his brothers about the notion of that.

“Where else would I have you stay?” Yoshi furrowed his brow. Obviously aware of how odd the circumstance was. “Of course I will house you in my home. I’m not heartless.”

Yoshi gathered up old blankets and bedding, bringing them toward a darker and colder part of the home. To the right he slid open a room. It was expansive, with much of the belongings inside gathered in a corner, covered in cobwebs.

“Apologies. This room has not been cleaned in some time. But it’s enough to fit the four of you.”

“Four of us?” Donatello glanced toward April and then toward Yoshi. “Where is April going to be staying?”

“In a room of her own,” Yoshi informed. “It is dishonorable for a woman to sleep in the same room as the boys. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

Raphael snickered in the background. “But we’re kappa.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Yoshi bit back. He looked to April and then motioned for her to follow him. “Come with me, April-san. I promise your room is much more cozy.”

There was reluctance in April’s eyes when she looked back at the brothers, but she turned away out of respect to their host’s wish.

“Guys, we are literally spending the night in a human home.” Michelangelo was lain out on his shell, eyes gazing up at the ceiling. “How cool is this!”

“Is it alright to let him take April to another room?” Donatello was leaning close to Leonardo, his voice low as if expecting the rat—Yoshi-san—to be listening. “She’s already been through so much.”

“This is his home, so his rules,” Leonardo said as he set up the bedding. In turn helping wind Michelangelo and Raphael up for the night.

Though Donatello might have been more vocal about it, all of the brothers disliked the idea of April resting out of their eyesight. But the situation was fragile considering the circumstances. It would have to wait until morning.

The snow fell heavily outside. The patter kept Leonardo awake, as did his clenching gut. He watched his brothers huddle close together for a more secure warmth. By the way Michelangelo was twitching and Raphael rolling over onto his side, it was obvious whatever Yoshi had done to them had worn off. And it was just the fact that a soft-handed human could incapacitate a kappa of their stature that troubled the eldest brother.

So lost in his raging thoughts, Leonardo hadn’t realized the door to their room sliding open two hours into their rest. He did turn at the sound of creaking floorboards though. There was April, awake eyes as wide and as bright as the moon overhead. She didn’t say a word as she looked at him, instead she came closer.

Kneeling down, April crawled toward the pile and laid herself down against Raphael’s shell. When she closed her eyes Leonardo understood why she was there. Refusing to let her sleep like that, he leaned up and pried a place between them for her, where it was the warmest. The night was quite cold after all.

Giving her a thicker blanket, Leonardo had shifted his brothers until April was pressed between Michelangelo and Donatello who were in turn atop Raphael’s plastron. Leonardo only laid down amongst the mess of limbs after April closed her eyes a second time, her breath evening out as they surrounded her. And eventually, he too fell into the peaceful sleep that they were in.

The shared warmth and comfort eased them all into pleasant dreams. The cold of the night could not unsettle them, nor could the eyes watching them. Come morning, when their dreams didn’t cling so tightly, the insistent rapping against the bedroom door woke them.

“I have prepared breakfast,” came Yoshi’s voice from the other side of the door. “I would get a move on if you want to eat it still warm.”

“Hmm, food.” Michelangelo leaned up, rubbing his eyes and any further sleep that clung to him. He was to his feet a second later, squeezing his way out of the mess of limbs to claw toward the door. “Wait! I’m coming!”

“Well, at least we’ll know pretty soon if it’s poisoned.” Raphael was rolling over. His shift pulled Donatello’s head from its comfortable position on his plastron. Instead it smacked the ground and woke the younger kappa up with a choking snore.

April shifted, groaning in dismay to the idea of waking. Her shiver had her pulling the blanket binding her up higher as if to cover her head completely. She wiggled a little more, only to shift closer to further warmth, which was Donatello still lying beside her.

“April.” Donatello’s hand was lightly touching her shoulder as if trying to determine whether or not to shake her awake. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Leonardo sat up. He sighed away the rest of his sleep, looking at his shifting brothers and then toward April who was groaning and moaning, reluctant to move or even open her eyes. It was a sign she’d slept well. Good.

“Come on, guys.” Leonardo was to his feet and second out of the room. He found his youngest brother at the table sitting on his knees scarfing down a bowl of steamed rice and beans. The moment he had finished it, there came Yoshi with another bowl to sit in front of him.

Yoshi looked at Leonardo and the others sparsely trailing behind. He nodded toward their places and then began dividing the rest of the portions into their respective sets. Leonardo sat down next to Michelangelo who was just about finished with his second bowl, and Raphael sat down on the other side. Donatello was the one helping April to her seat, seeing how her eyes still refused to open, but she was at least sitting up. Donatello took a seat beside her.

They ate in relative silence. Leonardo continued to watch the old human as if expecting something more, something typical of his kind. He knew it was rude, especially after al that was disclosed the previous evening, ending with the man letting them stay in his home for the chilly night. Even though obvious, Yoshi did not dispute or reprimand Leonardo’s cautionary gaze, in fact it was like he ignored their presence all together while he sat and drank his cup of broth.

As soon as the clinking of settling porcelain signaled the end of the meal, it was Yoshi who spoke first.

“April-san.” After having a few bites of breakfast, April was starting to wake up a little bit. Her heavy-lidded eyes turned toward the man. “I will return you back to the city.”

Whatever sleep still clung to the redhead was gone upon Hamato Yoshi’s announcement. She pulled her chopsticks away from her mouth and set both bowl and ware down. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Yoshi was standing, gathering up each empty bowl and cup. “I will be taking you back to the city. It is best.”

“That’s not necessary.” Yoshi looked at Leonardo the moment he spoke up. Both refused to turn their gazes away. “We brought her out here and we’ll bring her back.”

A moment passed with no further words passing between the two. Leonardo sat there, glaring as if his statement would seal the final decision. Yoshi had yet to retort, instead he looked down at the dishes in his arms and shifted. “It has been some time since I’ve cleaned so many dishes. Leonardo, if you would mind helping out an old man?” He moved toward the kitchen without another word, leaving expectant eyes to fall upon the eldest kappa.

Leonardo let out a breath and got up to help. When he entered the kitchen he found Yoshi paling water from stored barrels into a carton where the dirty dishes were placed. Before the human could roll up the sleeves of his kimono, Leonardo dug his hands into the stack.

While the sound of clinking dishes and swashing water echoed around them, it wasn’t the only sound filling the room. Yoshi stood beside Leonardo, drying off the rinsed dishes with a towel.

“I know you feel responsible for all that has happened. You promised her safety when you took her to the springs, and you wish to keep that trust. It is noble and a strong aspiration to have, but you must learn to know what is best for the situation.” Yoshi filled up a stack and waited for the kappa to hand him another dish. “She’s been gone from her people for some time, even if you return her unharmed they will have their guards raised. They will be looking for someone to push their rising stress upon.” Yoshi’s eyes were stern and sharp as he looked at the young kappa. “And I think we both agree that it would be grievous if they happen to discover unfamiliar creatures in O’Neil-san’s company. I would not wish her to lose her friends, nor you to lose yours.”

At least Leonardo held his peace. At least he listened to the human before making any sort of comment. At least he was able to understand where he stood.

He hadn’t finished the remaining dishes, but Yoshi didn’t reprimand him for that. He allowed him time to meditate on the decision at hand, and remained in the position of submission to whatever Leonardo finalized. When the morning sun inched closer to its afternoon brother, Leonardo made up his mind.

“What do you mean we’re not seeing April back?” Michelangelo held confusion as heavily in his features as his brothers.

“It’s for the best,” Leonardo said, glancing toward Yoshi who was dressed warmer, a bag slung over his shoulder and his walking staff in hand. He turned to April then. “I’m sorry, April. We did wish to have a good time with you. I’m happy you came, I just apologize for it turning into a nightmare.”

April moved only to wind her arms around him. Leonardo hadn’t expected the gesture but embraced her in return regardless. Pulling away, April only ever had a friendly smile for him. “And I was happy you all invited me. Maybe the trip didn’t go how any of us expected, but I’ll never forget what fun we did have, nor how you protected me.”

Twisting, April set her eyes on the rest of the brothers. They looked reluctant to let her go, more than a little resenting toward Leonardo’s decision. But she understood and so she encouraged this choice by hugging each one.

“You carried me when I couldn’t keep up.” April patted Raphael’s strong arm before wrapping her own around him. “And I know it was you pulling that kappa’s arms back so I could get away. You’ve been given all that strength and you use it to protect your brothers and me. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Raphael wasn’t one for public affection, but April knew he appreciated it even as he leaned away, eyes looking elsewhere. “Yeah, hm, you just tell me if the rat does anything funny when we meet again, got it?” When his eyes looked back toward her, April caught that smiling gaze.

Before she could even move in to hug Michelangelo the youngest of the brothers swung in and wound around her first. “I’m gonna miss you, April! I had all these games planned out on the trip back. Guess I’m going to have to wait on those.”

April nodded once she got the chance to ease herself out of Michelangelo’s tight hold. Clinging to his larger hands, she said, “Sometime later, alright?” As soon as Michelangelo nodded April moved to Donatello. “Donnie.” Just at the mention of his name, the kappa straightened, attention zoned.

“Yes, April?”

April stepped closer and laid her hand against the tallest kappa’s jaw. Donatello only leaned into the touch. There was a sadness in his face, one that matched his brothers. It was as if they all believed this was the last time they’d see their human friend.

“Don’t look like that,” April said. Her hands tugged until Donatello stepped into her embrace, holding her in return. “This isn’t goodbye. Well, it is, but not that kind of goodbye.” Donatello leaned away. His eyes still looked afraid of losing her. April only shook her head and let out a sigh, leaning once more against him, letting him hold her for a bit longer. “You make me feel safe like this. I’m not running away.”

By the time April came beside Yoshi, it almost did feel like she was leaving the kappa behind. They looked at them, at her, as if they were being abandoned; left behind. It clenched the heart in her chest. And that feeling remained as she and Yoshi made their way away from his estate.

That parting made the doubt in April’s gut rise. A fear crawled its way out of that agonizing feeling. The fear that she may never see the brothers again because they thought she was leaving them.

“Do not fret, April-san.” April turned her worried eyes toward her traveling companion. Yoshi kept a decent pace, stepping in time with her. The thud of his walking staff was almost soothing in the quiet around them. “Your resolve to see them again is not unrequited. You have similar hearts. There is love, and where there is love there will be a reunion. But for now we must part in order for that possibility to happen.”

April knew she wasn’t the only one wondering how this precaution would benefit her and the brothers. But the moment she and Yoshi found themselves on the roads winding closer to the city, familiar faces came out to meet them.

“April-san!” Karai was approaching. She was wide-eyed. There was a slight look of worry awash across her face, but it all faded into her dark eyes when they met the sight of her companion. “Hamato Yoshi?” Immediately she angled herself into a stiff bow.

With a wave of his hand, Yoshi said, “At ease, there is no need for such strenuous displays, especially for this old man.”

Karai leaned back, eyes blinking. “Apologies, Hamato-sama, but I cannot abide by your wish because I must honor all you have done for the clan first and foremost.” She bowed again.

April looked at her traveling companion. “You were a part of the Ashi Clan?”

A reminiscing gleam washed across Yoshi’s eyes as he nodded. “A long time ago. I have since retired to the mountains.”

“And yet your legend lives on.” Karai’s eyes sparkled with admiration. She really looked as if she were beholding a great heroic figure. It heightened April’s curiosity of the man’s younger years. “I did not know you knew Hamato-sama, April-san.”

April flashed a friendly smile. “Oh, we were introduced by mutual friends.”

“It is still so rare to see you return to the city,” Karai said, looking at Yoshi.

“If only to escort young O’Neil,” Yoshi replied. “She found herself in questionable parts of the forest, and I wished no harm come upon her during her walk back.”

A look was shared between Yoshi and Karai. A quiet conversation that offered an explanation to his appearance and the need thereof. It was enough to edge Karai further away from the deeper part of their secret.

“Well, then I hope you enjoyed your walk along the countryside,” Karai said, looking at April, inkling her head in a departing gesture. “You are in good hands.”

When Karai left, April expected to head straight to her home, however, Yoshi gave her a look the moment he turned down the street toward the market place. He smiled. “It has been some time since I last visited the plaza, as has it been since breakfast. You would forgive an old man who might catch something to tide him over.”

At that exact moment, April’s own stomach growled. She smiled in similar enthusiasm. “I’m not going to argue with that idea.”

. . .

All Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo wanted to do the moment they got back to their city was return to their hut and embrace their nests. However, the second they stepped through the gates a marching patrol encircled them.

“There they are!” And within another beat they were crowding the four, pushing them, herding them toward the imperium. It was crowded inside. Full of familiar and unfamiliar faces. There had been a thunderous noise arising from every heaving voice, but as soon as the patrol pushed in the four brothers the noise began to quiet as each eye turned their way.

“Those four?” Looking ahead across the springs, the brothers saw that old kappa everyone called Mother seated upon the rising throne. There was a scowl on her face; an expression she often wore whenever she set her eyes on them.

Amidst the morphing crowd, a group pushed through. The ones from Kawabata city. They looked surprised to see them, just as much as the brothers did.

“Yes!” It was the captain of the Kawabata guard. He approached, eyes roaming over them. When he found the evidence he needed he pulled Michelangelo to him and then turned him to the eyes upon them. “You see! This is what the tengu did.” Every eye stared at the scratches down Michelangelo’s plastron. Damage that could have only been caused by one clan. “They were there.” He looked back at the others, especially toward Leonardo. “They came to our city to warn us. They were the ones to help defend us against the tengu attack. Without their quick action I fear we would have suffered a multitude of casualties.”

Michelangelo smiled, offering a short wave at the examining eyes. “I’m fine, by the way.”

It didn’t take long before the brothers realized just what was happening. This was a trial. There, standing just to the left of Mother’s throne, surrounded by guards and bound in chains, was kawabata’s suiko. This was the kappa who presided over the small city, the same one whose duty was foremost to lead and protect, yet this same kappa had hidden away whilst an attack was sieged upon the unsuspecting. This was the same kappa who nearly drowned April.

There was no sympathy for this kappa in the brothers’ eyes. Nothing but fervent resentment glared from them Yet it was the likes of Leonardo who felt remorse and disappointment in the fact that this kappa was everything he one day dreamed of being, yet now that he saw him and the things he’s done, his idealistic dreams of the future began to warp and darken. When it became clear that even the most noble of kappa such as the suiko could become corrupt and do away with their oaths, it made Leonardo question just where loyalties were being laid.

“He knew they were coming!” one the Kawabata guards shouted.

“He’s in league with the tengu!” Another spoke up.

“He’d sacrifice our klutches for his safety!”

There was no opposition. Too many witnesses had seen his traitorous acts. And with the brothers physically carrying proof of tengu assault, it didn’t take long to convict the kappa.

The sentence for betrayal was death.

Stripped of his titles and attire, the kappa was pulled outside of the imperium. There he was stretched and bound to a cross. There he’d stand until he couldn’t, and then he’d hang and hang until his weak body faded away. No food and no water was allowed to him. His death would be slow and painful, but public so that all knew what would befall those who betrayed their own kind.

“That’s just so harsh,” Michelangelo commented as he looked at the shamed kappa.

“It’s what he deserves,” Leonardo said, his eyes harsh and accusing. There should be no mercy for one who gave up others to be eaten.

“But why would he do it?” Michelangelo spoke up again. “You don’t think there are others thinking about doing the same thing he did, do you?”

“If there are then they’ll share the same fate,” Raphael said, nodding toward the kappa. “Hang ‘em high, I say.”

It was supposed be as simple as that. A statement to be comforted by, but no heart was. In fact an investigation began to current from the capital. It stretched out toward the various districts, putting majorly suiko on trial, especially the ones overseeing the establishments near tengu territory. It was because of these heavy suspicions and unrest that the brothers reluctantly relented the idea to venture out in visitation.

But, really, it was only a matter of time before their reckless nature got the better of them.

. . .

April’s eyes beamed at the various frames and the beauty they encased as she helped Eric Sacks unpack the stacked crates and hang the stored art he had ordered from the mainland. They all arrived safely for the sake of turning his homestead into a place of familiarity and western comfort.

“These are absolutely gorgeous, Mr. Sacks!” April grinned as she held onto a painting depicting a knight stabbing a dragon.

“Eric, please,” he reminded. He was holding onto a painting as well, just finishing hanging it up near a vase when he turned to look at what kept April’s eye for so long. “Ah, St. George slaying his dragon. I do have a fair share of that common medieval theme.”

April chuckled, turning the painting over to Eric so he could hang it up. “If it’s so common a depiction, it makes me wonder if there ever were dragons.”

“Oh, there were.”

April turned, looking at Eric with curious eyes. After a moment she shook her head and smiled. “A funny man.” She turned away, brushing the comment off as if it were some tease.

“An honest man,” Eric stated. This time, when April looked back at him, he placed his hand over his heart; a gesture to assure his honesty. “I’ve seen them.”

Brows furrowed and lips pursed. There wasn’t any trust in that statement. “No,” April said. “You couldn’t have. They don’t exist.”

“But they do, or, at least they did, once.” April watched the man as he moved along his paintings. Now that she noticed, she realized that many of said paintings depicted odd creatures; demons, monsters, all of which were in some form of being killed. “Back in ’54 I traveled to China to take a look at one. It’d been dead for three years once I arrived, but the people preserved it so well that I got to touch its scales and even take a few whiskers for myself.”

April’s eyes were wide as she listened, quiet even as Sacks continued.

“Giant sandworms, griffins in the caucuses, thunderbirds out the west. They exist, April, but few are unfortunate enough to run across them.” Eric stopped beside a small section where small glass cabinets showcased dishes painted blue with oriental pictures of creatures April knew too well. “There was a fire at the station when I was a boy living here. No one really knows what caused it, but the creature I saw as I ran out into the garden opened my eyes and my life. A fire fox, or as the people call it here, kitsune. Ever since that day I devoted my time to exploration and defense.” He was holding April’s eyes as he took a seat nearby the stand. He looked quite proud of his selection. “It’s why a part of my company is sectioned for weaponry. And believe me, April, the peoples still send me letters of thanks after my company was able to help defend against the bipedal wolves of Romania.”

An uneasy silence lingered only because April’s gut was beginning to contort. But Eric pulled out a smile, attempting to shoo away the discomfort. He leaned forward and said—

“Now, not every monster is a threat. During my stay in a small coastal town in Ireland I was heavily warned about nearby pucks, but during a hike I ran into a few. They were nothing but pleasant, only wanting to mind their own business. So I let them, just as they let me.” With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair again. “I believe there’s a lot of misconceptions about many of them. Too many peoples are reluctant to talk about these beings they share their world with, and I believe that if they did we’d be able to determine the ones we could get along with, perhaps even live beside.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” April’s wide eyes wouldn’t move away from the man nor his stories. She took a step closer. “You really, I mean, you do believe—you’ve seen them? You’ve actually interacted with them?”

Eric nodded. “The best I could.”

A smile twitched across April’s expressions. Her heart beat in excitement, and now she was beside Eric. “What were they like? How big, how small? What color were their eyes? What did they wear?”

Eric smiled. “Always the artist. Perhaps I could take you on the next adventure and let you paint the things found. I notice you’re already attracted to the folklore here.”

Backing away a step, April glanced down. Her posture was bashful, reluctant even. But the pounding in her breast urged her further. She looked at Eric with a holding gaze. “I . . . I’ve seen some here.”

Eric rose a brow. “The fire foxes?”

April shook her head. “Kappa.”

A strange look flashed across Eric’s blue eyes. It might have been that of surprise, but it moved away so quickly that it might have been something . . . else. He leaned closer. “Then those pictures . . .?”

“I’ve seen them, I mean, I know them,” April said. It felt nice to converge in another, like a weight slipping from her shoulders. The energy in her chest washed away any twisting worry her gut churned out. It was exciting to tell another human about her discovery—and be believed. “They let me paint them. Eric, they are so kind and friendly that it just isn’t true what the people here say about them.”

“You’ve been with kappa?”

April nodded enthusiastically.

“Does your uncle know about this?”

April shook her head. “No. No, I haven’t told anyone, until now.”

Eric was quiet. He looked deep in thought which made April worry over whether what he had been telling her before was the truth. What if he made up those stories as to make her feel at ease? What if he didn’t believe there were creatures out there, ones of intellect and culture?

Finally, April watched a smile spread across Mr. Sacks’ face. “Good, that’s probably for the best. Not everyone is open about the idea of other races. They can hardly wrap their heads around skin color.” He stood then, moving back to the crate to dig into the rest of the art. His gentle smile persisted when he turned his gaze back toward April. “But now that I know I’m afraid I’m going to require just one thing from you.”

April blinked. “What’s that?” What could he want?

“A portrait,” he said. He nodded toward the farthest side of the wall. “I’ll hang it right there, but I want it to be your best yet.”

April’s heart soared. Her grin was so big her cheeks hurt. If that was all Eric wanted then that is what he would get. After all, she knew the boys didn’t mind staying still for a little while—well, Michelangelo did, but if there was a will there was always a way, even with that rambunctious kappa.

“Mr. Sacks, the equipment’s set up and ready to go.” A man rattled along the door, smiling at the two of them.

Ethereal subjects set aside, Eric looked toward the man. “Thank you, Vernon. I suppose that leaves me to get the Missus.”

April followed Eric out of the room and noticed just what he was referring to. There, seated near the fireplace was Mrs. DeLong. When she had arrived was a mystery. An appointment April hadn’t realized she had walked in on.

Crouching beside a stool where one of her children sat, Elida finished combing back young hair and straightening clothing. Her other child clung to her skirt whilst waiting for her mother to finish her sibling’s grooming. Apart from the children, Elida didn’t look too overdressed as much.

“Oh, April.” As soon as the woman turned she offered a pleasant smile and even a courteous dip. “I didn’t even notice you were here.”

“She’s been helping me unpack for the last hour,” Eric said as he came toward the mother and her children and offered them treats he had hidden in his coat. “How do these look to the children?”

While the two children squealed in delight, Elida looked completely different to the idea. “Not now,” she said. “It’s already hard to keep them still during the photograph. This would all be for naught if you hand those over to them.”

Eric chuckled, but nodded in consent, putting the sweets away. “You are right. Maybe after.”

“You getting in there too?”

April turned and noticed the photographer looking at her expectantly. With a flush, April realized how long it’s actually been since she’s been a part of a picture. And she certainly wasn’t dressed for one. “Oh, no. I’m not a part of the family.”

“But you’d make a lovely addition.” He was smiling at her, and the silence that passed between them ended more uncomfortable than savvy. So he corrected himself and offered his hand. “Vernon Fenwick. You can call me Vern if you want, miss . . .?”

April shook the outstretched hand. “O’Neil. April O’Neil.”

“You’re Augustus’ niece, aren’t you? The red hair must run in the family,”’ He motioned toward April’s locks descending over her shoulders. Reminding her it’s been some time since she dyed them.

“We’re ready, Mr. Fenwick!” Elida called out.

“Coming, Mrs. DeLong.” He twisted back to April and cocked a brow, holding onto that open smile. “You want to see how it works?”

“Why certainly!” April moved with Vernon and stood beside him as he prepped all of the devices. She even got to press the trigger while Elida ensured her two children sat as still as possible.

While a long process, it certainly was thrilling to watch from behind the scenes. There was excitement in both children’s expressions, but that same enthusiasm threatened to jitter them out of their seats. It was mother who was standing just out of camera range that set them still by a firm look of her eyes.

The fascination of it all captivated April, knowing that this device would be the future, that it would be a cousin to the palette and canvas. Behind Elida, in the right corner of the room was Eric Sacks watching it all with his own amusement. His presence reminded April of his request, but the steps she took with Mr. Fenwick pulled her mind in another direction, one that began to set.

The What If’s and Maybe’s swirling around her mind made April’s heart yearn to make it a reality, and as she roamed her eyes over the camera, she felt her resolve strengthen for it.

. . .

These days, all the brothers did was lounge around their hut and the city. They participated in the morning wrestling and once everyone’s shells were promptly kicked besides Raphael’s they would soak in the lilac springs. After that it was to the marketplace for something to eat and then back to the hut. Eventually the pattern was repeated.

In separation, Michelangelo would try to woo the young kappa beauties with his daring tengu scars. Leonardo would poke his head into the imperium and try to get progress reports from the captain of the guard. Raphael surprisingly took up writing, a journal consisting of plans, plans of places he wanted to visit—at least that’s what Michelangelo had said after he snuck a glance at the scroll. Donatello was the only one more sluggish than the rest of his brethren. While he was usually apt to find or create some sort of project to get himself into, he remained heavy-limbed, heavy-minded, and heavy-hearted.

Watching his sigh puff out into a visible breath, Donatello glowered at the ceiling. It felt like he spent most of his time gazing up at the dark dusty expanse of their hut roofing. More often than not his mind went blank, an unusual trait. With his brain not working like it should it forced his senses to focus elsewhere, like on the object in his hand.

Glancing down, Donatello looked at the locket of red. It was tied neatly in a loop, strung together with a tight piece of jute. He often wore it around his neck, but lately—with nothing better to do—he found it in his hand, pressing the strands against his palm, feeling their texture and staring unhealthily long at their color. Along with this pastime came the memories of its almost loss, and all Donatello had done to ensure it stayed in his possession.

Another breath passed through the cold air. He needed to do more than this. So Donatello sat himself up and grabbed his pack, leaving the hut a moment after. Even taking a walk through the city was more productive than what he’d been doing for weeks since he and his brothers got back. So that’s just what he did.

Ending up at the springs, Donatello took a seat along a jutting rock. It had recently snowed, but the skies were clear and the sun bright. The springs around were enough to provide nearby warmth, leaving them more crowded than they had been all year. It was there Donatello wanted to clog his mind with anything but the lock in his hand.

Enter Michelangelo.

“Donniiiie!” It was a little known fact that his little brother never walked, but bounced. His hop over toward Donatello displaced some snow, but otherwise didn’t disrupt his position—this time. “It’s rare to see you out of your nest these days. What’s up? Not feeling well?”

“No,” Donatello said, still not sure what to think of himself either. “I’m trying to feel better, that’s why I’m out here. Figured maybe some fresh air would do me good.”

“You know what I think it is?” Michelangelo leaned in slowly, his smile growing the closer he got. “It’s boredomidis.”

Donatello blinked. “Boredo-what?”

Michelangelo shrugged. “I dunno. I read it somewhere in one of those padios April gave us—at least I think I did. But it looks like you have a case of it. I mean, it’s been weeks since we’ve done anything exciting, and anything exciting around here has to involve April—which means nothing’s been exciting and I’m sick of it. You, Raph, and Leo are too. It’s contagious.”

Donatello sighed. Michelangelo’s extravagant and over exaggerated explanation grew less and less interesting as did the rest of the words coming out of his moving mouth. It was easy to block out the younger kappa. Donatello usually reverted back into his head, but it was still so strangely quiet.

There he sat, trying to fall on thoughts of his older brothers, grateful that they too missed April. And April . . . oh, April. Eyes turned away from an uninteresting Michelangelo back down to the lock he still had in his hand.

The memories of subtly plucking the strands from April’s head when he was assisting her in dying her hair came to him, as did the memory of twining the lock together and looping it into a necklace to keep close and safe. He remembered examining it for longer than usual, and then he remembered briefly losing it to the tengu. But that recollection set off a series of related memories, all involving April as she choked and flailed in the water in the grasp of that traitorous suiko.

His fist clenched, breathing quickening. A disturbing urge to see that dying kappa at the city’s center arose, but was shaken away by Michelangelo incessant pats.

“Look, look, look! It’s Aki!” Donatello loomed his eyes over to where Michelangelo was pointing. Sure enough, there she was, sitting along the edge of a blue spring, swishing her feet while she leaned against a larger frame. “Wait, is that Yuto? Oh, I should have known she’d go for the taller type! After I professed my love and everything.”

Donatello rolled his eyes at his brother’s pout. “She was never interested, Mikey.” His eyes roamed over the new pair, looking at the way Aki beamed at Yuto. Her eyes were gentle and soft, more beautiful than he’s ever seen. And that look was all for Yuto. How lucky he must be.

For a second, Donatello’s empty mind rewrote that scene, and the beauty of Aki’s gaze came from human blue eyes, framed by red hair. Just before that conjured image vanished, Yuto vanished as well, and Donatello felt a faux happiness when he took his place.

“Never interested?” Thank goodness Michelangelo’s drawl pulled Donatello away from such a warped fantasy. “All the ladies love danger. And it’s etched all over my plastron.” He looked down, patting his chest. “Maybe not as noticeable as Raph’s scar, but they’re there and they happened.” Reaching over, he nudged Donatello with his elbow. “How about you go sweep one off her feet with the tale of your daring tango with a tengu, hm?” His grin sharpened, as did his prodding elbow. “I’ll bet any girl will swoon over that. Even I did.”

While the tale of his endeavor was considered noble and heroic, it only made Donatello flush in embarrassment. As amazing as it was, he’d only fought off the tengu for a simple and small lock of hair. Heroic? No, stupid. Something he’d like to forget. Definitely something he’d rather not bring up around another kappa, especially one of the fairer sex.

Not that he would try to win over one’s attention by something like a simple story. No, that was something Michelangelo would do, like his bold move in offering rocks. That was pointless too as Michelangelo was still quite the single kappa. But so was Donatello, as were his brothers. Not that girls weren’t interested in them. Raphael had quite a few batting eyes always watching him. Leonardo did too, after all he took a lot after their handsome father, but he was too busy keeping up with politics to notice the fawning girls at his shell.

Not that Donatello’s had no luck, he’s just never really tried. He figured he was still quite young, they all were, to be worrying about future mates or adolescent sweethearts. That’s not to say that wasn’t something he yearned for.

Looking back toward Aki and Yuto, Donatello felt his heart yearn for someone to look at him like that. But he was a realist, and knew his boundaries. He knew his odds; those weren’t exactly in his favor. Kappa girls tended to like the bigger, thicker males, those who could hold their own in a wrestling match and had good upbringing, lived in stacked huts, whose parents were still alive and well-respected in the community. He sat there, already lacking most of those commonly desired qualities. Maybe one day he’d be able to attract one—when his muscles filled out his lengthy arms and legs, and his shell got a little bigger, a little tougher.

Donatello was content to wait. He was grateful for his sense of reason and how its presence refrained that heavy yearn for a companion. But lately, after feeling so imbalanced and empty-headed, Donatello thought that that might be what’s been upsetting him, which means it’s snuck back in exactly how he feared it did.

“Mikey, Donnie.” There came Leonardo, tailing him was Raphael. He gave their surroundings a look around before leaning in close, his voice low. “There’s been an extension in the weekly trials. I think Mother’s getting annoyed with all the work she’s been doing lately. While she’s occupied, how about we try for a trip out of the city?”

“Yes!” Donatello was to his feet less than a second later.

Michelangelo laughed. “Boredomidis, what did I tell you?” His playful eyes then turned toward their older brothers. “We gonna see April?”

“I hope so,” Leonardo said. “I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears,” Michelangelo sung as he motioned their brother closer.

After as long as it’s been, it was decided that heading to their usual meeting spot and waiting for April to show up would be redundant, especially when they’d have to be back in the city before the gates closed for the evening and any reason was given to question their loyalty. So Leonardo led them all back to a familiar homestead where an old human opened his doors in welcome for them. It was there their host was asked to fetch April.

Yoshi did so without further word. By that evening he packed up necessities and left for the city. When the brothers returned the next morning they were greeted by the man trailing a young woman. April’s smile was as large as theirs even as she pulled a cart along with her.

“April!” Michelangelo raced toward her and scooped her up into his arms, nearly knocking over her cart as well. “Boredomidis almost got me, April! Almost got us all! Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.”

April laughed, patting the kappa’s arms so she could be let down. “Easy with the cart. I’ve got a treat for you four.”

Michelangelo’s eyes beamed. Immediately he crouched next to the cart, tugging at the tarp to see what was underneath it. “Is it those pizza things? Oh please say it’s pizza!”

April smiled as she pulled out two large baskets from the lump underneath the covering. “Actually, I may have brought you something to munch on.”

“Oh ho! This is the best day ever!” Before Michelangelo could even touch one of the baskets, both had been snatched away by Yoshi. His face immediately fell in dismay. “Ah, raaat.”

“That is ‘Sensei’ to you, Michelangelo,” Yoshi said with a twitch of his nose. He looked at the other three, holding the baskets close. “You four have grown slothful in the weeks apart. I cannot allow today’s opportune meeting to pass by without proper training. Now come, to the dojo.”

Michelangelo stood scratching his head. “This was supposed to be a fun day.” With a sigh, his shoulders slumped. “This bites.”

Yoshi’s dojo looked like it had seen better days. Most of its expanse was used as storage for various discarded items and furniture. Of course that wasn’t counting the various bugs and cobwebs that also took up residence.

“Your first duty will be to clean this room,” Yoshi ordered. He turned to April afterwards and asked, “Would you like some morning tea?”

April nodded. “That would be wonderful.”

“I’d like some too,” Michelangelo mentioned, but he only got a glare from the old man.

“You will have the luxury of those things after your duties are done for the day.” With that he walked off with April in tow. She left them with a sympathizing look and went off to drink morning tea with _sensei_.

“Well . . .” Michelangelo’s smile faded after a sweep of the room. He looked toward Leonardo. “This is all your fault.”

Leonardo blinked. “My fault?”

“Yeah, you wanted a legit sensei.” Raphael snickered as he leaned down and began picking up furniture. “This is your dream job, right?”

“Hey, Mikey said he wanted one too,” Leonardo said. He then looked back at the only brother who had yet to blame him for their predicament. “Come on, Donnie, back me up.”

Donatello simply shrugged and took up a handful of rags. He tossed one to Leonardo. “They’re not wrong though.” He chuckled as he passed him, but other than that they all set to work cleaning up the room.

It took until noon to clear out the room and clean it of dust and debris. That was around the time Yoshi paid his first visit. With a scrutinizing eye he looked them over and then began to wander around the room.

“While I’ll remember to have you wipe it down again later, this will do for now,” he said.

Sighs of relief were shared.

“Yes!” Michelangelo thrusted his fists into the air in triumph. “It’s pizza time!”

“You shall dine after warmups.”

Once more Michelangelo’s enthusiasm was sucked out of him. “What? Warmups? But I’m starving.” He placed both hands over his belly. “You don’t understand. When a kappa needs to eat, he needs to eat.”

Yoshi chortled. He tapped his staff down and turned to them with sharp eyes. Humor spread his lips into a smile, but his expression only dipped the further he spoke. “Please. I know kappa can survive months without a meal. I doubt you four are the exception.”

Michelangelo guffawed along with the rest of his brothers. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“That’s more than a little creepy,” Raphael muttered toward Leonardo who stood on his right. Donatello only shook his head in agreement.

“Alright! It’s time to show me just what my lessons have taught you.” Yoshi tapped his staff against the floor again. The echo rung out like a signal to begin and so the kappa did.

They took partners, separating into pairs. Leonardo and Donatello, and Raphael and Michelangelo. They moved around each other first, unsure what their sensei wanted. When Raphael struck out with his elbow and Michelangelo twisted out of its way they heard another tap from Yoshi’s staff. A sound that alerted their attention.

“So you can dodge, but can you take damage?” Yoshi spoke up. His tone was as if he were speaking to himself. It didn’t sound as much like a review, but the brothers knew it was. With eyes locked, they nodded in understanding on what to do next.

Donatello struck second, twisting and swinging in a kick to Leonardo’s tender sides. His older brother caught his leg and held him there. When he struggled to get free, Leonardo shifted and brought him to the ground. The clack of his shell hitting the floor bounced off the walls and sent a heat through his face. How embarrassing.

“Bad footing,” Yoshi commented, flustering Donatello more. It urged him to jump back to his feet, eyeing his opponent closely, and breaking eye contact only as he caught sight of Michelangelo running toward Raphael in an attempt to tackle. The success of which fluttered away as Michelangelo shoved himself against his older brother, pushing and pushing but not at all moving the larger kappa. “Good footing.”

Donatello huffed as he watched Michelangelo’s poor display. Of course he couldn’t move Raphael. Not many kappa could. It wasn’t fair.

The creak from the sliding door also caught his attention. In came April with curious eyes. At first she remained near the door just to sneak a peek, but as Yoshi stamped his staff, calling for quicker moves, she slowly inched closer until she was just a step beside the man.

“Ahhh!” There went Michelangelo. Raphael simply picked him up and tossed him over himself. He hit the floor hard. “Awww, that’s not even fair . . .”

Yoshi rose a brow. He and Raphael shared a look, but the human made no further comment. The move wasn’t ninjitsu in nature, but it was effective, and it looked like their sensei approved of it.

Leonardo seemed intent to prove himself to their newly branded—but long time—sensei as well. His quick moves had Donatello backing up with each block until he had been pushed toward the wall. With a quick dodge, Donatello managed to evade his brother’s ramming fist. But as soon as he twisted around to face him, Leonardo was on top of him again, shoving foot and fist at him, not giving him any sort of break.

Donatello tried to send his own attack against his opponent, but Leonardo was too fast, and wouldn’t let him gain any ground. Eventually, Donatello had to use a dunking dodge to roll out of his brother’s path. As he slid away, throwing off Leonardo’s pace, he jumped back to his feet, his fists at the ready. Out of the corner of his eye he caught April watching on in amazement. Those bright blue eyes of hers watched them—watched him as he sparred.

As soon as Leonardo rebounded and swung at him again, Donatello was able to evade the strikes and swing his own right back, this time making his brother revert back into defense. Three pushes in, Donatello managed to land a kick against Leonardo’s thigh. He almost brought him down. Almost.

Twisting around, he could see April. She was still watching, waiting to see who’d be taken down first. Donatello would make sure it wouldn’t be him.

He didn’t notice when Leonardo decided to tackle him. He hadn’t expected it. Because they were hitting with feet and hands, not an entire body. So Donatello was knocked to the floor, unfairly pinned.

“Get off! What are you even doing?” Donatello huffed, rocking, trying to at least buck his brother off of him. Leonardo only sat on him with that stupid grin of his. With a shrug he said—

“I figured if it worked for Raph, it’ll work for me.” He looked up toward Yoshi who said nothing to negate the action. Donatello just couldn’t stand for that. So he rocked up and pushed Leonardo off of him.

“Is this even right?” Donatello shifted over onto his knees, looking at Yoshi as Leonardo was. His outburst disrupted Raphael’s and Michelangelo’s match and now all eyes were on him. “You said to show you what we learned? Leo, and even Raph, aren’t even doing that. It’s not fair!”

“So says the one who lost the match,” Yoshi said. “Perhaps you would too appreciate improvision if you had noticed it coming your way, instead your eyes were on a pretty face. The fault is your own, Donatello.”

Aside from the previous occurrences, Donatello’s face heated it worst then. He looked at April standing near Yoshi, she was smiling, maybe even laughing at him, just like his brothers were right then.

“You got to forgive him, sensei, his mind tends to wander all over the place.” Leonardo slung his arm around Donatello’s neck, yanking him close enough to tap his fingers against his head just long before Donatello pulled himself back out of his hold.

“Let go!” He complained, glaring at his other two brothers who were laughing along.

Yoshi’s staff slammed down again. “Yame.” He moved forward. The boys quickly lined up and bowed. Awaiting his approval. “It is clear you have been taking in my lessons from a distance, but you all show promise.” He turned when the sound of a grumbling stomach broke the pause. He looked at Michelangelo who only smiled on bashfully. “And, I believe it is time for a meal break.”

“Finally!” Michelangelo was the first to come crashing out of the room toward the kitchen where the two baskets full of pizzaioloes were waiting for him.

“Better get to it before he eats them all,” Raphael commented, he and his brothers knowing full well of what Michelangelo was capable of.

Raphael followed after, then trailed Leonardo. Donatello felt his stomach churn, obviously hungry but the upset still coursed through him and interrupted his appetite, even for the delicious pizzas. He sat with the others at the table with one in hand while his brothers scarfed down the remaining. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You gonna eat that?” Michelangelo had more than his fair share, but he was currently emptyhanded, staring down at his brother’s only piece.

“Don’t be selfish,” Leonardo commented, leaning over and flicking Michelangelo on the back of his head just for thinking it.

“Ow! I was just trying to help. Donnie’s not been feeling too well,” Michelangelo excused.

“Something been eating at you?” Leonardo looked at Donatello. Their eyes met briefly before the younger turned down his gaze.

“Yeah, it’s called his humiliating loss.” Raphael chuckled as he bit into his last pizzaiolo, his comment making Michelangelo giggle along.

“Is everything okay?” April’s gentle voice filtered through the noise. She was sitting next to Yoshi just across the table from Donatello, but her eyes were all on him. She was concerned.

Donatello really didn’t believe that any less than positive expression could disrupt April’s beautiful face. Even though her eyes were clouded with a lining worry, they were still bright and vivid and dazzling. And the way she leaned in, just to convey her attention, was an endearing trait that he hoped would never go away.

“No, Mikey’s right. I haven’t been hungry lately.” Turning, Donatello allowed his younger brother to snatch up his pizzaiolo. Michelangelo was quite thrilled to sink his teeth into the last one. The piece was completely gone within the next three seconds.

April tilted her head as another wave of sympathy beautifully phased out of her. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Leonardo spoke up. “Me too. If I would have known you were sick I wouldn’t have been so hard on you back there.”

“I’m not weak, Leo.” Donatello huffed, refusing to accept any sort of tenderness from his brother. He didn’t need it, nor did he want it, especially not from him.

“Guys, guys, please don’t fight.” April leaned up, patting the table. She was to her feet a moment later, coming around and taking Leonardo by the hand, tugging him to his feet. She did this with each brother as she passed them. Donatello was the last she pulled up, and he noticed that she hadn’t yet let go of his hand. “If you’re all feeling up to it, I have another surprise.”

“I am always down for your surprises. Only because they’re usually tasty.” Michelangelo was beaming, bouncing on his heels, ready.

April nodded at each approval and then looked up toward Donatello. “What do you say?”

April stood at the best spot in the home. The way the light came in through the windows and illuminated her hair really looked surreal. And with the way her blue eyes beamed up at him, the colors swirled, making the kappa swoon. Wait, swoon? Donatello doesn’t swoon.

Pulling himself out of the nasty knack of his to constantly lock onto detail, Donatello nodded. He even gave April’s hand a squeeze back. She still didn’t let go.

“Great!” She twisted, giving one look toward Yoshi who seemed to nod his own approval, after which April tugged, pulling Donatello along with his brothers trailing.

April brought them into a dark room. The windows were blocked, purposely ensuring no amount of light got in from the day outside. In the center were two high stools with a lower bench in front. In front of them sat a boxy device that was held up on pole-like legs.

“What even is this?” Raphael was poking at the contraption, leaning over and trying to peer through the glass lenses. It was because of this April let go of Donatello’s hand, instead rushing over toward Raphael’s side in an attempt to keep his exploration minimal. This in turn caused a resentment to sulk inside of Donatello’s gut over the stolen attention.

“Please don’t touch any of it. I’ve borrowed it you see, and I need to make sure I bring it back in the best condition,” April said, trying her best to shoo away the curious kappa. “What I need from you four is to take a seat right over there.”

“What for?” Leonardo was already sitting down. The moment he had, his brothers came to join him. Raphael sat to his left, Donatello on the lower bench below and Michelangelo scooted in next to him.

“For a photograph,” April informed as she began shifting the device a little higher, angling it so it was now facing them better.

“A photograph?” Donatello leaned forward to get a better look at the machine. “But doesn’t the drying process take some time?”

April nodded, poking her head out from the curtain behind it. “But it’ll be worth it.” She nodded toward the youngest kappa, giving his brothers looks for good reason. “So, please, try and stay as still as possible, and try to keep each other from moving.”

Three hands came over and laid on Michelangelo. He turned, giving his brothers a look. “Hey, what’s with all this?”

“Don’t move,” Donatello bade, his grasp tightening only as much as Michelangelo moved. After all he’s read, the invention of the camera obscura was one of the most fascinating around. Seeing one in the flesh was astounding. He wondered where it came from. He wondered how April came across one, or even how she knew how to use one.

He watched as she shifted dials and nobs. The only part of her visible was the skirt of her gray dress. But he could hear her, all of his brothers could especially when she said, “Alright, in one, two, three, and four!” April pressed a trigger and then came out from underneath the blanket. “Okay now don’t move. We’ve gotta wait for the plates to dry.”

“How long is this going to take?” Michelangelo’s curious question was received with a pinch from Raphael’s hand. “Ow! What?”

“She said not to move, dish head,” Raphael muttered, doing the best he could without moving his mouth too much. But, hey, at least his little warning helped keep Michelangelo still for another couple of minutes.

“Eyes on me, boys,” April waved. Her smile growing. She was excited for what this would produce, so were the kappa. Even if they had to sit still for another hour or so, it certainly wouldn’t be hard for the majority of them, especially Donatello who opted to take her advice and just set his eyes on her. He could do that, even for longer than it took for the plates to dry.


End file.
